


The vampire and the werewolf

by lola381pce



Series: A Daily Dose of Phlint [14]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Bloodkin, Daily Phlint, Insults, Lots of eyerolling and raised eyebrows, M/M, Murder Mystery, Non-Graphic Violence, Sexual Tension, Snark, Vampires, Werewolves, Wet Dream, lanyards, more snark, talk of death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 28,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7860160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was originally only meant as a short #daily phlint fic-let, but there have been so many positive comments that a plot has now been seeded, taken root and encouraged to grow by you all. It might take a wee while but in the meantime thank you for all your kind words.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Werewolves vs vampires...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7693321) by [lola381pce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce). 



> This was originally only meant as a short #daily phlint fic-let, but there have been so many positive comments that a plot has now been seeded, taken root and encouraged to grow by you all. It might take a wee while but in the meantime thank you for all your kind words.

Phil Coulson is chief investigator for the NYPD: SVU (Supernatural Victims Unit) Vampyre Division. Someone has been killing vampires and leaving behind trace evidence by way of hair follicles that would suggest werewolf involvement. He’s also a senior vampire with centuries of experience hunting ‘dogs’ - who better to investigate the case?

Clint Barton is lead investigator for the NYPD: SVU Lycan Division. There’s a killer on the loose who’s been murdering werewolves and the dead epithelials left at the scene put a vampire at the top of the unsub list. He’s also a senior werewolf who happens to have a healthy dislike of 'bloodsuckers’ - who better to investigate the case?

However, when their cases become linked the head of the SVU thinks it would be a good idea to start a joint task force - the Vampyre Lycan Assist Department (VLAD) with the two investigators heading up the team. Blood may be spilled and fur may fly but so long as they get the job done Nick Fury doesn’t care. He also doesn’t care if the old adage is true… opposites attract.

***

Clint hates him on sight. Mr Calm and Controlled with his perfect suit and intense blue eyes. Fucking bloodsucker. Until now he’s always felt powerful as a werewolf but being in the presence with a vampire as old as Coulson makes him feel unsettled. He sighs heavily and runs his hand through his wild hair looking at his down at his faded blue jeans and grey Henley. And unkempt apparently.

He decides to make it his mission to see how far he needs to push the vampire to make him lose that control but after a week of trying…nothing. And it’s pissing him off. So much so that following his umpteenth attempt and a particularly snappy comeback by Coulson, he gets angry enough to grab him by his lapels and slam him against the wall hard enough to make the plaster crack.

“Fuck you, bloodsucker,” he snarls, eyes briefly flashing scarlet.

The tension in the room, high as it was already, goes up a notch with vampires and werewolves beginning to side off against each other, only waiting to see how things play out between the two before making a move.

Coulson stares at Clint for a time, his own eyes turning from blue to violet as his vampire nature surfaces. He grabs Clint’s upper arms and spins him round slamming into the same bit of wall increasing the crack. He leans in and calmly whispers in the werewolf’s ear, “In your dreams, dog."

He pulls back and lets Clint go, walking away as though nothing happened. His second-in-command, Natasha quietly lays her hand on his forearm to stop him from following the vampire. She’s surprised when he puts up no resistance. As is he.

Later that night when he wakes up panting, come painting his stomach, cock slowly beginning to soften, he’s convinced he’s been glamoured. Because there’s _no_ _way_ he’s just had an incredible sex dream where he and Coulson are fucking.


	2. Chapter 2

Coulson jerks awake. Had he been anything other than vampire, he’d be breathing heavily and soaked with sweat. As it is his entire body is shuddering, fingers clutching the sheets as he recovers from the intensity of the orgasm he’s just experienced in his sleep. He sits up in his windowless bedroom staring down at the hot come drying on his stomach as he tries to understand where the dream came from and, more importantly, why it involved him having mind-blowing sex with Clint Barton. 

***

“What are you going to do about him, Coulson?”

The senior vampire pauses in his review of the report in front of him. He looks up with a raised eyebrow at his second, Melinda May, who has perched herself on the corner of his desk. For a brief moment he thinks she’s referring to his dream the previous night. Although she gives a good impression of being able to read minds, in actual fact she can’t…he doesn’t think.

She stares back at him her face expressionless. Ah. It’s going to be one of those non-conversations. He returns to his paperwork without answering. He knows she means Barton but she’s going to have to work for it. After last night he’s in no mood for anyone’s bullshit. However as May apparently has nothing better to do than be his desk ornament for the day, he sighs internally and asks, “Who?”

Aware Coulson is being deliberately obtuse she ignores his pointless question and continues. “He challenged you; in front of the team.”

Coulson sits back in his seat, hands resting on his desk, open and relaxed on either side of the report. “It was’t a challenge. He was trying to get a rise out of me. It failed. And he lost his temper. Pretty sure I handled it, May.” He hopes he isn’t blushing at his unfortunate phrasing.

“He’ll keep pushing.”

She’s right. He will.

“And I’ll deal with it.”

As if on cue, Clint appears in the bull pen making his way to the vampire in a barely contained rage. He slams his palms down on Coulson’s desk and snarls, “What the fuck did you do to me?”

May raises her eyebrow in a smug ‘told you so’ way and slides off the desk to let Coulson ‘deal with it’.

Calmly he laces his fingers together and rests them on top of the paperwork. He looks up at the werewolf with the corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smile. “Detective Barton. A pleasure, as always.”

As expected, Barton is unimpressed. “What. The fuck. Did you do to me?” he repeats, his voice icy. Once again his eyes flash dangerously indicating he’s only just holding onto his temper.

“I’m sure I have no idea…”

It seems the smug fuck isn’t even going to admit to it. Clint shakes his head in disgust and cuts him off. “Stay out of my head. Asshole.” He pushes himself off the desk and begins to walk away. Coulson apparently can’t help himself.

“Or?”

The werewolf turns back to give him a measured look which, after last night, the vampire finds is doing interesting things to his dick as it twitches appreciatively in his pants. Still holding Coulson’s gaze, Clint smirks and he says softly. “Or I’ll end you.”

Coulson’s own smile broadens. He isn’t afraid of the werewolf but the quietness of Clint’s voice is more threatening than all his previous posturing. His cock once again makes its presence known with an insistent throb.

“It would be interesting to see you try,” he responds, with his usual calm. The muscles in his jaw tighten into a hard knot as he holds his smile.

Clint narrows his eyes. “I’ve got time now; unless you don’t want to mess up your pretty suit.”

“Barton. Coulson. Stop eye-fucking each other and get in here.” Fury calls from his doorway before disappearing back into his office. The stare off continues until the head of the SVU peers round the door frame again. “Gentlemen, did I fucking stutter? NOW!”


	3. Chapter 3

Phil has a not-so-small problem; his dick.

If he’d left well enough alone and let Barton walk away, all would have been fine. But noooooo! He had to open his mouth and wind the werewolf up making himself semi-hard in the process. In a room full of vampires and werewolves. Who can probably scent his arousal. Awesome! Fuck! _He_ can scent it…wait though. That’s not _his_ arousal he’s smelling. It takes all his control not to drop his eyes to Barton’s crotch to confirm it but he’s positive the werewolf is as turned on as he is. Huh! Interesting.

Instead he studies the way Barton’s blood is pumping through his body. Like his breathing, it’s rapid and the pulse point in his neck is like a beacon demanding attention. Aaand he shouldn’t have done that. It’s been a long time since he’s felt the urge to Feed. Not for nourishment but for pleasure. And right now he wants to sink his fangs into one of three places: the carotid artery in Barton’s throat; the radial artery in his wrist; or the femoral artery in this groin. All pleasure zones for the participant _and_ the vampire. To make matters worse, his cock is throbbing eagerly almost in time to the other detective’s heartbeat.

And now, of course, Director Fury wants to see them. In his office. Across the bullpen. Again, awesome!

Coulson decides to brazen it out and stands up from behind his desk. If Barton spots what’s going on in his pants that’s his problem. If _he_ can be mature enough to keep his eyes above the waistline then so can Barton. Not that it really matters. The werewolf has preternatural senses too and will already know what’s going on.

And he does. But that’s not what Clint is thinking at that precise moment. No he’s far too concerned about fighting the urge…the almost irresistible urge… to take Coulson by the back of the neck and hold him close enough to bury his nose in his throat and breathe in his scent. And once he’s inhaled that smell deep into his lungs he wants to mark him. He wants to bite down into the muscles of his shoulder and suck his mark into him. Here. Now. In front of every one. And when that’s done he will fuck him or be fucked by him or both. It doesn’t matter so long as it happens. Loud and deep and hard.

Since that dream last night it’s all he can do to keep his dick in his pants when he sees Coulson even if he is livid with him. Embarrassingly he’s so fucking hard right now it’s almost painful. And he _knows_ the vampire knows. He saw him scenting, staring. Not at his dick. He’s too polite, too subtle for that. But at his neck and chest - watching it rise and fall, watching the blood flow in his veins forced round by his rapid, angry breaths. It should be creepy and sickening however it’s anything but. It’s seductive and carnal and he wants to give into it.

What the fuck?! Where is this even coming from? He’s talking about a _vampire_. A bloodsucker. He should take him out for putting a glamour on him in the first place. Except… Except he’s not entirely sure that’s what’s happened. But if it’s not that…

And fucking wonderful! It’s at this exact moment the head of the SVU decides to holler for them. Which means he now has to walk across the bullpen with a raging hard-on that’s probably clearly visible in his jeans.

However he doesn’t feel quite so bad when Coulson stands. Clint is neither subtle nor polite and takes in an eyeful of the vampire’s rigid cock as he walks out from behind his desk. He has to give him kudos for being so bold as to get up with a rager that…impressive. It would be funny if it wasn’t so… He bites down on a grin. It _is_ funny. It’s fucking hilarious. Coulson gives him a single nod while trying to hide a wry smile of his own and makes an ‘after you’ gesture. Heads held high, they walk to Fury’s office.

“Nice job dealing with it,” snarks May as he passes by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so...this will be the last chapter of UST for a wee while. It's probably about time the investigation actually started (it was supposed to be this chapter but I got kinda caught up with Coulson's dick...and then Clint's...oops! Dick fixation? Me? Yeah, probably;)). Anyway, hope you enjoyed.


	4. Chapter 4

“We have another vic,” Fury tells them bluntly from behind his desk. He’s sitting back in his chair, elbows on the arm rests, fingers steepled together. He’s glaring. He’s not so much annoyed at them as pissed that there’s been yet another murder and they, collectively as a department, are no closer to having a suspect, never mind having the case solved.

Whatever happened out in the bullpen is forgotten. Coulson opens the middle button of his jacket and sits on one seat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, legs apart, hands clasped in front of him. Clint spins the other round to straddle it, resting his chin on his forearms across the top of the back rest. Both are attentive as Fury updates them on the recent murder. There’s not much, details are pretty sketchy at the moment (male victim, vampire, signs of torture, decapitation - all similar to the previous cases) so he needs them at the crime scene fives minutes ago.

Fury throws the file to Coulson and a set of keys to Clint. “Take a pool car.”

“Nah. I’ll take my bike,” he says pushing himself off the seat holding the keys out for him to take back. Coulson raises an eyebrow. Aww and they’d been getting along so well. Actually he could use the time alone to…cool down.

“Works for me,” the vampire readily agrees. “I think better on my own.”

Fury however is less than impressed.

“You can _stow_ that shit,” he tells them in no uncertain terms. “I brought you two in to work as a _team_. If you can’t do that, you’re no used to me. You can both be reassigned - May and Romanoff can take over. Work out your _god_ - _damned_ issues. Go get drunk, fight each other or fuck each other, I don’t much care but get your _shit_ together. Now get the fuck outta my office.”

The two of them depart leaving him to mutter something about the goddess saving him from “…fucking diva supes”.

“Get you at the car,” Clint growls leaving Coulson at his desk to collect his gun and Stark-pad and whatever other shit he needs. Coulson nods, his expression grim. As Clint leaves Romanoff slips out with him and May joins Coulson.

“Another?” May asks, her face impassive.

He nods.

“Ours or theirs?”

“Ours.” He pauses for a moment then looks at her, his eyes hard. “And from now on they’re all ours. Vampire, werewolf; it doesn’t matter. We need to stop this, May. We need to stop it from happening again.”

She stares at him for a moment wondering where this has come from but, knowing he’s right, gives him a barely perceptible bob of her head. “What do you need?”

His features relax a little and he smiles softly. “I need to tell you?”

She rolls her eyes in response. That will be a ‘no’ then. She knows he means for her to lead the team in reviewing the murder book - or books this time; go over witness statements, forensic reports and crime scene photos for anything they might have missed. Check the victim’s timelines; get to know them again - their friends, their habits, their hobbies anything that could identify a pattern. Follow-up any outstanding leads even if it seems they go nowhere.

“And work with Romanoff on this. Get her input from their perspective. Not working together has cost us another of our kind. That’s on me. I don’t want any more."

Again she nods. Now she understands. He’s blaming himself.


	5. Chapter 5

“What’s going on?”

“There’s been another one.”

Natasha arches a disdainful eyebrow at Clint. He can’t help but give a grin at her expression causing her shoot him a glare that makes him want to drop his hands to his balls to protect them. He won’t give her the satisfaction though; instead he heads towards the parking garage. Walking with him, she waits just long enough for him to know how much hurt is in his future if he doesn’t answer to her satisfaction.

“Of course there’s been another one,” she continues with a tone that’s as scornful as her eyebrow. “A bloodsucker, yes? One of ours and you’d be more upset. And if Fury had called you in to discuss a breakthrough in the case, you’d have made an announcement to the team but instead you and Coulson are going out - presumably to the crime scene. So… moving on from the obvious, I _mean_ between you and him.”

The smirk disappears. He lowers his eyes and shrugs.

“I understand what motivates you to torment vampires but with him it’s dangerous. He’s no fledgling. Nor is he a hothead. Why antagonise him?”

Clint gives a derisive snort and juts his chin out. “I’m not afraid of him.”

Natasha ignores him and carries on as though he hasn’t spoken. “And as for that…” She pauses to search for the right word. “… _display_ back there earlier. I’m not sure what to make of it. So. I ask again. What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” he snaps at her, coming to a stop. Aha! She knows she’s struck a nerve. She stands beside him.        

“Clint, I’m not sure if you want to kill him or have sex with him. I find that kinda disturbing.”

Clint flushes and raises his hand to the back of his neck. Definitely struck a nerve. And it doesn’t seem killing in foremost in his mind. О, Боже! (Dear god!).

“Help me out here.” She smiles gently at him. “Or do I have to use cognitive re-calibration?”

He grins at that. There had been an investigation a few years ago when his mind had been taken over for a time by their chief suspect, a sorcerer by the name of Loki. It was only after Natasha had knocked Clint senseless - calling it cognitive re-calibration - that he finally came back to himself and they were able to crack the case resulting in Loki’s capture and imprisonment. He still has nightmares but at least they can joke about it now. Oddly enough, it helps.

“Tasha, I don’t know either,” he finally admits leaning against the wall. “I… last night… I dreamed of him. Us. Fucking. I don’t know. I thought he glamoured me, got into my head.”

“Jesus, Clint.” Natasha’s horrified at the suggestion. For Clint to have someone, a vampire no less, rooting around in his head…

“I know… But now I’m not so sure. I called him on it this morning and as much as I expected him to deny it, he actually seemed… _surprised_? And then _he_ challenged _me_. That’s more his style; up front, in control. The glamour thing just doesn’t seem… _him_ somehow.”

“So if it’s not glamour, what is it?”

“That’s what scares me, Tasha. I dunno.”

They fall quiet for a moment each reflecting on what the other has said. Finally Clint speaks again, angry yet regretful at the same time. “We need to work together on this, Tasha. All of us. I’ve been too busy trying to piss off Coulson instead of doing my job. And now we have another dead supe. Fuck!

I want you to work with May. Perhaps the two of you can see something we’ve missed as individuals. And discuss pairings - who’d work well together and who wouldn’t. Any problems, let me know. Get the rest of the team to go through the murder books. Ah shit, you know the drill, Tasha.

I need to get to the crime scene with Coulson.”


	6. Chapter 6

Natasha, having been given instructions to work with her counterpart, passes the vampire on his way to meet Clint. They exchange nods but where Coulson’s is a casual greeting, the werewolf’s seems to convey a certain  _ knowing _ \- although  _ what _ she apparently knows, Coulson has no idea. It does make him wonder however.

It’s not that he’s afraid of the flame-haired lycan but the intense scrutiny she manages to give him as they go by each other, is... unnerving. He resists the urge to turn round to see where she is and what she’s doing. That would demonstrate a lack of trust and be a sign of weakness on his part neither of which he is willing to show. Things are fragile enough between the two groups; he doesn't intend to make it worse. All the time he walks along the corridor, he can feel Natasha’s eyes burning into the back of his head until he reaches the stairwell and then...she's gone. He presumes he’s passed her test.

A few minutes later he joins Clint in the car, a Lexus SUV. He has to give it to Fury; he’s always had style. He climbs into the passenger seat happy enough for Clint to drive. He can study the case files on the way to the crime scene. He barely has the door closed and his seatbelt on when the werewolf revs the engine then floors the accelerator speeding car out of the underground garage fast enough to create sparks from the floorpan as it comes into contact with the concrete speed bump. The other supe is presumably trying to gauge his reaction; he’ll allow him that and after bracing his knee against the centre console, Coulson nonchalantly opens the first file to work. There's a slight huff of amusement beside him and the werewolf begins to tap out a rhythm on the steering wheel, relaxing into the drive. 

As they head to the scene, there’s something that’s been niggling Coulson. It’s stopping him from focussing - he’s read the same paragraph three times already - and he finally decides it needs an answer. He tries to remain as non-threatening as possible by keeping his eyes on the paperwork and his tone light.

“You were angry with me earlier. Why was that?”

Clint stops tapping his fingers against the wheel. “Doesn’t matter,” he murmurs after a few moments. 

Phil could let it go but he'd rather confront the issue head on. “It does to me.” 

Again there's silence. Normally he would ride it out letting it build until the other person felt uncomfortable enough to fill it but...Clint’s a detective, it’s doubtful he’ll do that. 

He looks up to give the werewolf a half-smile and a shrug then returns his gaze to the file in his lap when Clint refuses to look at him. He doesn't give up however. If anything, it makes him more determined to get an answer. “Look. We didn’t get off to a good start. I get that but...I’d like to try to put that behind us if....”

“I thought you'd glamoured me.” Clint blurts out, interrupting Coulson. He casts a sideways glance at the vampire whose head snaps up. He turns to look at Clint, his expression a mix of outrage, horror and disgust.

“You thought I  _ what _ ?”

Clint shrugs. “I said I…”

“I heard what you said.” Coulson’s voice is quiet and cold as though he’s trying to hold his anger back and only just succeeding. “I just can’t believe you thought I would.”

Well, this wasn’t going quite the way Clint would have expected it to had he been planning on telling the vampire. Since voicing his fears to Natasha he realised it’s unlikely Coulson  _ would _ do such a thing but he didn’t anticipate the strength of his reaction if he were to find out, nor the heat behind it. It seems to accuse a vampire, well  _ this _ vampire anyway, of mind control is a big deal. He’s not quite sure what to say now. Or if an apology will be enough to smooth things over between them.

“And what makes you think I  _ glamoured _ you?” The word is said with such vehemence that Clint almost flinches. Almost. 

“Look, I’m sorry if I was wrong.”

“You didn’t answer the question.” 

Coulson abruptly closes the file and shifts in his seat to face Clint, his attention now fully focussed on the werewolf who finds his scrutiny as unnerving as Coulson found Natasha’s. Okay. So it seems an apology is not the way to go. As much as he doesn't really want to, it's embarrassing as fuck, he'll have to be honest.

“When I got home after the shift I had a… weird dream and you were in it.” He leaves out the part where it left him breathless, covered in come and desperate for more. “It made me think that yesterday, when we argued you… you hypnotised me.”

“So you figured I looked into your pretty eyes and put you under my will?”

Clint’s first thought is ‘He thinks I have pretty eyes’ then, irritated with himself, his anger and embarrassment kick in. He flicks his gaze to the vampire and snarls, “Look. I don’t know you and I sure as hell don’t trust you. You’re a bloodsucker - I don’t trust any of you. You could easily have done it and I’d never have known. That’s what you do.” 

“No, detective. It's not. For one thing I'd have to be touching you.”

“You were,” Clint growls at him. “You had me against a wall at the time.”

“Not enough. It has to be direct skin contact.” Coulson's eyes drop to the pulse point in Clint's throat again to watch it beat steadily under his gaze. It both fascinates and disturbs him how much of a turn on he finds this with the lycan, as is the thought of touching his fingertips to his skin, and he discovers he’s becoming aroused again. Unconsciously he clenches his jaw hard causing the muscles to flex, and tries to put those ideas out of his head. 

He also omits telling the were about his own dream. He’s not sure why probably because Clint’s dream was just weird whereas his… not so much. An all out sex-fest which had him shuddering and almost tearing the sheets with the intensity of it but there was nothing actually  _ weird _ about it. Other than the whole vampire/werewolf thing. Shit! He really has to get off this subject.

Coulson shakes his head and frowns. Changing the subject (in his head anyway) he asks, “Which file did you read?”

Thrown by the question, Clint can only respond with, “What?”

“There are four files on me that I'm aware of. The vampire and werewolf versions; the NYPD official file; and the one Fury's people compiled. Ironically, the vampire and werewolf files are very similar - they both concentrate on my lycan hunts and… are mostly fantasy. The police file is nearer the truth but it only covers the last seventy years or so. The one Fury has, has been put together over hundreds of years and is the most accurate. So, detective - again which one did you read?”

Well... that's unexpected. Clint has never considered the number of files that existed on certain supes, himself included. He supposes it makes sense. For the first three anyway. Fury's one he has no idea about. He wonders idly if he has one.

“Ours,” he replies. It's more of a mumble. For some reason he feels embarrassed as though he didn't do his homework properly on the vampire and with this new knowledge he supposes he didn't.

Coulson nods but doesn't comment. It would certainly explain why Clint understands nothing about him. 

“I'll leave word for Fury to give you access to my records,” he says before opening the casefile again and dropping his gaze to it. 

“You don't need to,” Clint tells him.

Coulson's response is icy. “Apparently, detective, I do.”


	7. Chapter 7

The remainder of the drive to the crime scene is quiet. Coulson shuts himself off to concentrate on the files from the previous murders (and to regain his composure) leaving Clint to think about what the vampire said. It also gives him time to wonder about the records Fury has. He can’t say he isn’t curious and more than a little intrigued to learn exactly what’s in them.

Clint slows the SUV to a standstill and flashes his badge at the officer standing in front of the crime scene barrier. She nods and moves it aside waving them through. He parks up near the yellow NYPD tape and shuts off the engine giving Coulson a sideways glance. Coulson snaps the file he’s reading closed and looks directly at Clint; both know a potentially unwelcome situation needs to be addressed before they can leave the vehicle.

As a result of the deceased vampire being discovered by a human female returning home from night shift, an overlap between the initial human NYPD investigation and V.L.A.D has occurred.

There’s an uncomfortable coexistence between the natural and supernatural worlds; consequently the Supernatural and Human Inter-species Enforcement and Liaison Division (S.H.I.E.L.D.) was set up. It’s a good idea, in theory, but how smoothly things go quite often depends who the Liaison Unit is so it really doesn’t need to be made any more complicated with two supernatural species at each other’s throats - perhaps literally - in front of the humans. Not to mention the fit Fury would pitch if it were to happen.

Clint and Coulson have to clear the air between them before they set foot outside.

“Are we good?” the vampire asks with raised eyebrows. “Can we at least get through investigating the scene and… maybe get back to the precinct _before_ we have our next bust up?”

Clint’s hand drifts to the back of his neck in a self-conscious gesture giving the other detective a bashful grin. “You mean no fighting in front of the kids.”

The corner of Coulson’s mouth twitches then curls up in a half-smile. “That’s what I mean,” he agrees.

Clint’s oddly happy about that. At least the vampire’s not so pissed at him that he doesn’t accept the joke for what it is, nor does he correct him for his use of the slang term. No-one knows how or when it started but by odd (or perhaps not so odd) coincidence all departments of the SVU refer to humans as ‘the kids’ for the obvious reason - they have a far shorter lifespan than most supernatural species (as well as being scared of things that go ‘boo’ in the night).

“I’ll be good,” Clint murmurs. He doesn’t drop his eyes from Coulson’s - he’s not going to submit to the vampire - but he does acknowledge he’s right.

Satisfied, Coulson nods and gathers his files together. For a second Clint’s annoyed that the other detective doesn’t reciprocate until he remembers Coulson usually keeps himself under control; he’s generally the one who acts like a hormonal pup. He sighs and follows Coulson out of the car… then wishes he hadn’t; the S.H.I.E.L.D. ‘welcome wagon’ is John Garrett with his chiselled-cheekbone lapdog Grant Ward.

“Well hey, Phil!” shouts Garrett as he saunters over to them with Ward in tow. “I heard you were heading up a new task force for all the shit that’s been happening to your kind.”

The way he says ‘your kind’ makes Coulson want to punch him in the face. Having worked with Garrett before, the vampire believes he’s the epitome of why S.H.I.E.L.D. is a good idea…in theory. The guy’s a dick. He narrows his eyes for a second before forcing himself to relax.

“Co-heading,” he corrects mildly, casting his eyes to Clint.

Garrett doesn’t bother to look at the other supe standing beside the vampire. Ironically, it’s Coulson that the human’s attitude irritates; the werewolf couldn’t give a shit. He’s had plenty of run-ins with the S.H.I.E.L.D. detective himself and he’s always an asshole. He’s more than happy to let the vampire deal with him.

“Yeah? Well sure…whatever. I’m sure you’ll get the sumbitch eventually. Maybe your dog can sniff him out.” He gives Clint a sly smile. Ward lets out a barely disguised snort.

Surprisingly Clint doesn’t rise to the bait. He does however notice the muscles in Coulson’s jaw are tight and a) he finds it kinda hot and b) realises it’s the vampire’s tell that his patience is being tried. He’s noticed it before but hadn’t put two and two together. It’s not until he sees it directed at someone else that it registers. Well now. This should be interesting.

“Maybe he can but… I seriously doubt it. You’ve probably destroyed his sense of smell with your overpowering scent of bullshit.” Not giving the human time to respond he continues. “I believe you have a witness. We’d like to speak with her before we get to the body.”

Clearly bristling but hiding it with a bout of smugness, Garrett tells him, “No can do, Phil. Sent her home.”

Coulson looks at him like he’s stepped in shit and has just smelled it. “Really. Why?”

“Hey, chill man. She didn’t see anything anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Pretty sure I do, Phil.”

Coulson raises his eyebrows in another ‘really’ expression.

“Wellll…she said. ‘I didn’t see anything, detective.’

“She doesn’t know that for sure either.”

“Aw hell, Phil. She seemed so damned sincere. I just had to let her go home.”

Coulson keeps himself calm but barely. Garrett pushes his buttons in all the wrong ways. Who knows how many protocols the human has broken by letting their one witness leave before Clint and he had a chance to speak with her. The urge to punch him in the face returns stronger than ever.

“Look, Coulson you’re right. I’m sorry. No hard feelings.” He holds out his hand to the vampire. Against his better judgement but trying to keep the peace he nods and accepts the gesture. It takes all his control not to react to the searing pain erupting in his hand flaring up his arm. His eyes flash violet. The fucker is wearing silver.

Clint’s eyes widen as Coulson’s skin begins to smoke but the vampire doesn’t let go of the human’s hand. If anything, he grips it even tighter forcing Garrett to cry out and pull away. The human covers his own pain by making a joke out of it.

“Hey man! That’s quite a grip you got there. Oh wait! I’m sorry, Phil. Did I …? Oh I did! I forgot. All the S.H.I.E.L.D. detectives were given a present from the Captain.” He holds up his hand to show a signet ring on his right pinkie finger.

Clint snarls making Ward take an involuntary step back. The werewolf moves in front of the vampire partially blocking him in a protective gesture. It’s an unconscious move but Coulson appreciates it just the same.

“Down, boy. Maybe you should keep your dog on a leash,” Garrett advises Coulson with a nasty smile. “I guess I forgot it’s silver. The purest. Embedded with bits of iron in the design I believe. Pierce is a nice guy like that. Good to his cops.”

Coulson steps forward, keeping contact by brushing past Clint placing himself shoulder to shoulder with him again. He holds up his own hand, a smirk playing on his lips. Disbelief is plain to see on the humans’ faces; the skin is unmarked. Clint is also surprised but he manages to keep it hidden.

“Perhaps he should have the purity tested, John. Or perhaps I’m just an old vampire who is no longer concerned with the games of children.” Before the shock wears off and he keeping his tone calm and even, his next words seem all the more chilling. “Now get the fuck away from my crime scene, Garrett and take that obsequious cock-gobbler with you.”


	8. Chapter 8

A stunned silence meets his words.

Coulson stares at the two S.H.I.E.L.D. detectives for a moment or two longer, his cold gaze challenging them to say something. When it’s apparent no-one has any desire - or perhaps ability - to speak, the vampire nods before he calmly walks away.

With a cat-that-got-the-cream smirk, Clint snatches the crime scene handover paperwork from Ward’s hands causing him to flinch, and gives it a slow perusal. He’s doing a great follow-up job of tormenting the younger man. Having obviously been knocked off kilter by Coulson’s words, the werewolf’s making him nervous. Oh, he’s trying to play it cool standing there with his lips pursed and a bored look on his face but Clint can smell it on him. And he’s loving it.

“Everything signed? Witness details there?” he purrs.

The detective glares then nods with a roll of his eyes but the timing is just a fraction off to be natural.

Clint signs his section and tears the sheet from the book holding it out to Ward only to yank it back just as the human’s fingers close around it. He holds it up just out of his reach. “You’re sure? I don’t want to find out you’ve missed something and have to come looking for you.”

Ward gives him his best pissy look, delighting the werewolf, before he grabs the document - ramming it into a S.H.I.E.L.D. notebook - and stalks after Garrett. The senior detective has already departed for his car without even a “fuck you”. Clint’s feelings are hurt. No, really. They are.

Grinning, he tucks the handover book under his arm he jogs after the vampire. It’s nice to know Coulson and he have gotten under pretty boy’s skin but he wishes Tasha had been here. She’d have had him shitting porcupines. She’s hated Ward ever since she found out (thanks to a mutual friend) he said she was “eye candy” for Fury.

He has to admit though, Coulson has surpassed all his expectations not only with his handling of Garrett (that thing with the silver… he’s never seen anything like it) but fuck! His turn of phrase with Ward. He finally snorts out the laugh he’s been holding for the last few minutes. He can’t wait till Tasha hears about it.

He catches up with Coulson a short distance away. For a few moments they walk side by side in silence until Clint can’t help himself any longer.

“Really? Cock-gobbler?”

Coulson ducks his head and gives him a sideways glance with his best innocent look. It fools neither of them.

“Garrett called you a dog,” he says with a shrug by way of explanation.

“You call me a dog,” Clint reminds him. Coulson mulls that over for a moment.

“Sorry. Busted. But… it’s possible I don’t mean it the way he does.”

Oh? And how do you mean it Clint wants to ask but instead, shaking his head in a kind of wonderment, he says, “ _Cock-gobbler_  though.”

The two supes look at each other and let loose a snort of laughter.

They’re not quite out of sight of the unmarked car belonging to the two S.H.I.E.L.D. detectives and their behaviour has a somewhat negative effect, on Ward at least.

“Fuck! I hate those assholes,” he spits out as he throws the notebook over his shoulder not much caring if it misses the back seat and goes through the window. He’s almost choking on his words, his anger over Coulson’s and Clint’s treatment of him evident. “They’re bad enough alone but they’re fucking unbearable together.”

Garrett turns to him and gives him a lazy smile. “Son,” he drawls, “you just need to bide your time. Our day is coming.”

He rubs his thumb over the engraving on his signet ring grinning as he traces the comforting outline of a cephalopod. “Now keep your panties on and say the magic words that’ll make you feel a whole lot better.”

Ward’s ugly frown turns to an equally ugly smirk as he looks at his mentor and says with feeling. “Hail HYDRA.”

“Hail HYDRA,” Garrett repeats as a mostly pacified Ward drives away from the scene.

***

“Are you serious? Is he serious?” The M.E. looks between Clint and Coulson, clearly vexed. “I can’t give you a time of death. I can’t give him a… he knows that right?”

Oooo-kay. Clint holds his hands out in front of him, palms forward in a placating gesture. “Sorry, doc. It was a slip. He’s a vampire… no time of death. I know that.”

He looks to Coulson for some support. The vampire folds his arms across his chest and tilts his head to the side giving his full attention to Banner.

“He knows, Dr Banner,” he tells the other man in a soothing voice - the one he keeps for junior cops who are scared of fucking up - and shapeshifters who turn into large, green and enraged half-giants when angered. “What can you tell us?”

“How about a cause of death?” Clint adds, trying to be helpful. “Not vampire undead-death. Actual death.”

Banner points to the ground, “Uh… his body’s here… and his head’s there. I’d say there’s a good chance decapitation had something to do with it.”

The doctor’s not really annoyed at the werewolf - it probably is a slip from him. A T.O.D. can be given for a most supes but for a vampire it’s virtually impossible. Unless he or she has recently fed - and even then it can be hit or a miss with so many other variables to consider. There’s no liver temp, no living cells in the epithelials, no coagulation of the blood or bruising at trauma sites. It’s frustrating. For vampire deaths, it’s usually the investigators from Supernatural CSU who have the best chance of finding and working evidence that can help pinpoint a T.O.D. That and good, old-fashioned detective work.

No, it isn’t the werewolf. It’s the regular NYPD and S.H.I.E.L.D. detectives who have pissed him off. As soon as they knew the victim was a vampire the jokes started flying - how do you annoy a vampire; make him lose his head, I don’t fancy being on the stake-out for this one, well, doc - I guess his stomach contents’ll show he had ‘stake’ for dinner. Banner is no novice when it comes to gallows humour but this wasn’t it. The two S.H.I.E.L.D. detectives in particular were almost getting off on it. It sickened him. It made him… angry. He’s still angry.

And that’s not good.

Banner’s a shapeshifter. Not a full shapeshifter; he can’t turn into any creature. But he can turn whenever the urge takes him - unfortunately it’s generally when he’s emotionally compromised - and when the shift does happen it’s pretty scary. There are still civilians and humans at the crime scene including rubber-necking spectators. The supes don’t want an incident, so when Coulson sees a green spark beginning to flare in Banner’s eyes, he reaches out and carefully rests his hand on the M.E.’s shoulder.

“Banner? Are you with me?”

The doctor narrows his eyes then gives the vampire a half-snarl, the spark deepening to a solid emerald; he’s turning. Coulson’s not happy acting without permission however he believes he has only one choice to keep the shape-shifter contained within the good doctor. Glamour.

His own eyes turning violet, Coulson stands closer to the M.E. He slides his hand to the back of the shape-shifter’s neck ensuring plenty of skin contact and begins to talk to him; his voice calm, comforting. “Talk to me, doctor. You asked for V.L.A.D. We’re only investigating one case. Why did you call us? What links this murder to ours?”

Clint feels a surge of jealousy as he looks at Coulson with his hand gently gripping Banner’s neck. He finds himself wanting to be in his place with Coulson’s hand holding him firmly as he bears his throat to the vampire. He also resists the other irrational impulse to tear the doctor away and grab Coulson by the neck, nosing at his throat before nipping and licking at it. He shivers. Oh fuck! This has to stop. He needs to concentrate. Whatever he’s feeling, whatever this is, he has to bury it and get on with the job.

Coulson may not be able to glamour without touching but a sudden wave of calm seems to fall over him. Clint feels his shoulders relax along with Banner’s and he takes a breath. He closes his eyes and drops his head forward. When he opens them again he sees the fingers of Coulson’s other hand touching his own briefly before they slip away. Oh! That one quick touch is enough to sooth him. Anchor him again.

Like Clint, the doctor stills. His eyes go soft, the emerald green fading as they stare into the vampire’s. “What links this murder to yours? _Everything!_ The decap, the removal of the fangs, the silver burns, the xo pattern. It’s all the same. It’s all related.”

“Hugs and kisses,” breathes Clint the possible significance of the marks carved into the victims’ skin, werewolf and vampire, suddenly dawning on him.

Coulson ignores him concentrating on Banner.

“Okay. Good. Anything else?” he asks the M.E.

“Yeah. This time the House insignia is visible… it’s yours.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while for an update... needed a break after writing 'Surviving Christmas' and 'Two's company, three's a Christmas' for Feelstide 2016. They were a lot of fun to write but I was pooped afterwards! Anyway here's the next instalment. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Note: there's a description of the aftermath of torture but I don't go into a lot of description. Just wanted to warn you.

Shocked, Coulson lets go of the shape-shifter’s neck for a second before restoring his light grip. “You’re sure?” he demands. The calm tone of earlier is gone replaced with a sudden sharpness.

Banner blinks a couple of times. The brief loss of Coulson's touch is enough to break the glamour and he’s coming to again. He nods. “I, uh… yeah. See for yourself but… yeah, I’m sure.”

This time Coulson gently releases the M.E. from his hold ensuring he’s suffering no lasting effects, and crouches down by the naked, decapitated body taking care not to touch it. He doesn’t want to contaminate it with false trace evidence. Sure enough, just below the victim’s collarbone on the pectoral muscle is his House sigil staring back at him - a winged-serpent ouroboros. He has a similar one in the same place; older than this, much older, but still easily recognisable beneath his chest hair.

He closes his eyes for a moment and clenches his jaw bunching the muscles into a tight knot. He knew it was likely to happen; only a matter of time really but it still hits him hard. And Banner’s right, the insignia is clearly visible this time with no attempt to erase it. The others had been made unrecognisable by silver burns presumed to have occurred during torture and acknowledged by his team as part of the unsub’s M.O. Until now apparently.

In previous cases it had required the Supernatural CSU to run some deep dermal scans for the sigils of the other Houses to become clear enough to identify. And that had taken several days. _Like the torture_ he thinks with a grimace.

This is a considerable deviation by the unsub and it begs the question; why? He may as well throw it out there.

“Any idea why the unsub would change his M.O. like this?”

While he waits for responses from the two supes, Coulson’s eyes continue to scan over the body with a clinical detachment. He’s searching for the other signs the M.E. had mentioned and finds all the external ones. Werewolf or not, this is someone with deep hatred of vampires.

As he stares at the 'xoxo’ patterns carved and burned into the skin around the neck, wrists and inner thighs, something Clint said earlier comes back to him - hugs and kisses. It bothers him; nags at him.

Now fully recovered from Coulson’s glamour, the shapeshifter shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine, detective. I only examine the victims. I...uh got no idea what goes on in the minds of the perps. And… I can’t say as I want to either.”

Coulson gives him a brief nod in understanding. He can’t say as he blames him. There are days, some more than others, when he doesn’t want to get inside the head of the perps either but unfortunately, he’s found it’s the best way to catch them.

Even though the vampire's touch didn't last as long or _seem_ as intimate with Clint, the lycan’s still slightly dazed. Like Banner, he blinks several times as the glamour slips away. Surprised, he realises he’s not as uncomfortable with the experience as the thought he would be and honestly he’s not sure if that’s a good thing. In fact he finds he’s actually missing the reassuring feel of Coulson’s mind brushing against his. Soooo… probably _not_ good then.

Either way he’s glad the vampire’s attention is focussed elsewhere because he’s not 100% sure what he’d do if Coulson were to look at him with those intense blue eyes right now. The glamour may have left him more relaxed, but the lingering effects have also him with a pleasurable warmth curling in his belly. Yeah… _definitely_ not good. And is that normal? Is Banner feeling the same way?

He looks over at the shapeshifter but can’t tell if there’s anything different about him except that he seems a little less on edge than he was earlier. He certainly doesn’t _look_ like he wants to jump the vampire in the middle of the crime scene. Must just be him then or maybe the M.E. just hides it better. Fuck! Could there _be_ more inappropriate time?

Clint shakes his head. Time to get his mind back in the game and Coulson’s question has piqued his interest. Fully alert (and half-hard) he responds to the vampire, glad his voice sounds reasonably normal at least.

“Aside from the fact he’s of your House, does this seem more personal than the others?” he asks pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, not easy when they’re kinda tight to begin with never mind with a partial boner. Seriously? So not the time and definitely not the place.

“Could it be a copycat?” he adds.

Coulson’s mouth turns down and his brows come together in a deep frown as he mulls over Clint’s questions. He’s been an enforcer of vampire and supernatural law in one way or another for centuries. As with rogue elements and law breakers of his own kind, he’s hunted the same within other supernatural species including the lycans. If Barton’s right, and this is personal, it could be… anyone.

He flicks his gaze up to the werewolf pinning him with a look for a moment before he drops his eyes back to the body. The intensity of it makes a shiver roll down Clint's spine.

“Other than the clarity of the sigil, I don’t get the feeling it’s a copycat. It’s a good theory but… as the Doctor already said, there are too many similarities to the other murders for me to believe it’s another perp. There’s knowledge of things we didn’t release to the press. Maybe they’re upping their game. Or becoming overconfident. Maybe they’re just fucking with us.”

He pauses for a moment before adding quietly, “I don’t know, Clint. But we have to stop them.”

The lycan doesn’t miss Coulson’s use of his first name. He doesn’t recall the vampire having said it before but he doesn’t mention it or the way it fans the flames of that pleasurable warmth in the pit of his stomach into something hotter, deeper.

For once oblivious to his partner’s thoughts and feelings, Coulson sighs and lowers his chin to his chest before reaching out his right hand to hold it above the victim’s House sigil. He murmurs a few words in the Old Language. A blessing and a vow. He’s said this too many times recently and he’s angry now. The V.L.A.D. Unit has to find the person responsible; supe or human they have to be stopped.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to Twangcat - you know what you did (thank you).

Coulson knows what needs to be done next but in all honesty, has no desire to do it. It’s his sense of duty that dictates he owes it to the victim to at least try and identify him; he was of Coulson’s House after all. Duty and his resolve to find the killer and put an end to the sonofabitch once and for all.

He straightens himself from his position beside the body appearing calm and unruffled (outwardly at least) with his hands held in front of him, left hand over right wrist. He gives Banner a sideways glance and says quietly, “The rest of him please, doctor.”

The M.E. holds his gaze for a moment trying to convey his regret at his offhand comment from earlier regarding the cause of death. It was tactless and stupid and he curses himself for it (along with the two S.H.I.E.L.D. detectives who had put him in that state of mind). Thankfully Coulson seems to understand and acknowledges his attempt at an apology with a nod and a brief smile. The shapeshifter crouches down and respectfully uncovers the vampire’s face.

As he does so, Clint watches Coulson’s reaction carefully. His face remains impassive but the muscles in his jaw tighten and his shoulders slump a little.

“You knew him,” he says gently. It’s not a question; he’s gained enough insight into the other supe since they arrived at the crime scene for him to recognise the change in his posture is that of sorrow rather than anger. He’s seen flashes of Coulson’s anger and this is different. That will come later he supposes and he's not sure if he wants to be around to witness it.

Coulson gives him a single nod as confirmation. His jaw remains clenched but he has a determined look about him now; back straight, chest out, chin jutting forward.

As he continues to watch the vampire, Clint notices his hands have dropped by his sides and are balled into fists. If the killings hadn’t been personal to him before, they sure as Hell are now. It’s the only outward sign Coulson shows for when he speaks again, his voice remains steady. Clint grudgingly admires his restraint; if it were him he’d be wanting to rip someone’s throat out right about now.

“Thank you, doctor. I know you will anyway but… if you could let me or Detective Barton know the moment you find anything you consider to be helpful… I’d appreciate it.”

Recognising his words as an end to their time at the scene, Clint begins to walk away with Coulson close behind him. It’s Banner’s soft voice that halts them.

“Coulson? About earlier… I…uh, thanks. I could feel a Shift coming on… it might not have been pretty.”

“Think nothing of it. But… I apologise for acting without consent. I should have earlier…” He lets the rest of the sentence trail off and frowns annoyed at his lack of courtesy. He doesn’t like to admit it but he’s somewhat distracted.

Banner shakes his head causing the curls of his hair to fall against his brow. He brushes them away before tilting his head to the side giving the vampire a bashful grin. “We’ve been through this before… you have permission anytime in that kind of situation. Trust me, I have no need for the Other Guy to make an appearance in the middle of a group of gawping ‘kids’.” There’s that word again.

Coulson and Clint nod sympathetically.

“Too much paperwork,” Coulson jokes half-heartedly.

“And then some,” the shapeshifter grins back.

***

“I’d like to drive… if you’re good with that?” Coulson tells Clint on the way back to the SUV.

Clint knows it’s not really a request but he appreciates that the vampire has framed it as such. Even so, there’s a quality to the cadence of Coulson’s voice that the werewolf finds difficult to resist. Damn him!

Resist he does though. Clint hates anyone else being in control of a vehicle he’s travelling in (including Natasha who scares the shit out of him when she’s behind the wheel… actually especially Natasha now he thinks about it). He also thinks about his own macho bullshit behaviour when they left the precinct earlier and only just manages not to blush. Maybe he owes Coulson one.

After a moment’s hesitation, Clint holds out the keys to the vampire dropping them into his upturned palm. In truth he can understand Coulson’s need to be doing something right now. To concentrate on something other than his thoughts. He might not have the passionate quick-temper of a werewolf but Clint can imagine once Coulson’s ire has been provoked it would be something to behold and he’s still not sure he wants to see it. Bloodlust can do strange things to a supernatural.

“I guess I’d want to do the same myself,” he says rubbing the back of his neck as Coulson accepts the keys with a quick smile of thanks. He also notes, the vampire is careful not to make contact with him and he feels oddly disappointed by it.

They don’t speak again until they’re heading away from the crime scene, back through Brooklyn. At first it’s tense and awkward; Clint because he’s not driving therefore not in control; Coulson because he’s hurting. He keeps his eyes focussed on the road ahead busy with supernatural commuters and human nightshift workers. His hands grip the wheel loosely but with confidence and he skillfully makes his way through the traffic. Clint relaxes in his seat just a little.

Eventually Coulson begins to open up and talk about the murdered vampire.

“His name was Antoine Triplett… Trip. He was a fledgling, lucky if he was twenty-years a vampire. He’d have become one of our best investigators. Had a keen mind with good instincts… impressive tactical skills.” The vampire pauses and smiles sadly for a moment. “And a big heart. His smile will be missed.”

Clint isn’t sure what to say. A few days ago he wouldn’t have given a shit about vampires and how, _if_ , they felt. In fact, until Fury had had set up the V.L.A.D. Unit and put him on this case with Coulson, a good bloodsucker was a dead bloodsucker as far as he was concerned which is why his weird (and by weird he means fucked up) behaviour towards the vampire over the last 24 hours is confusing as hell.

There’s rarely bloodshed nowadays (excluding the recent spate of murders, if indeed they are being carried out by either species - the werewolf has yet to be convinced), it's usually Pack or House feuds that cause the damage. Usually. There will always be those with a deep hatred of vampires, himself included - he has his reasons - but at this moment he feels an inexplicable pang of sympathy for Coulson regarding his loss. By the sounds of things the two seemed to have been reasonably close and he wonders if Triplett had received at least some of his training from Coulson.

“I mentored him for a while. Before I headed up the Vampyre Division,” Coulson continues as though reading Clint’s mind. If the werewolf didn’t already know what Coulson’s mind actually felt like inside his own (still kinda missing it… still fucked up) he’d probably be thinking it too.

“He comes … _came_ from a bloodline that was part of an elite special enforcement unit...” The vampire pauses a beat before adding, “...the Howling Commandos.”

Clint gives a derisive snort and Coulson manages a smirk as he gets the reaction he was expecting. “You’ve heard of them then.”

“Name’s a joke,” Clint growls under his breath. The Packs once hated it. Hated the fact the bloodsuckers had taken something that should belong to the werewolves and bastardised it. But over the centuries it became a challenge. Coulson was right; they were an elite unit. The best of the best. There was no greater motivation than the thought of taking down a Howling Commando in battle. But those were different times.

“You’re right. It was always meant to piss off the lycan enforcers. Guess it still works.”

“Asshole,” Clint mutters but there's no real heat behind it. He knows Coulson's trying to get a rise out of him and he's not playing. Besides, if he's not careful he'll get the wrong kind of rise. And won't that be embarrassing.

“Woof!” Coulson’s voice, although definitely teasing in its tone, is also suddenly husky and Clint could swear it’s teasing in another way. And damn it, he can feel himself getting hard again. This is _sooooo_ not right. To get himself under control, he pretends to sulk with the vampire turning his shoulder to him and looking out the window.

Coulson huffs out a short laugh and tries not to feel guilty for doing it. One of his own has been tortured and killed by the unsub they’ve been chasing and he’s flirting… with a werewolf no less. Compared to some Houses, Royal Houses especially, Coulson’s is progressive, liberal even, but thinking about ‘the enemy’ in _that_ way would most likely be frowned upon. He can’t seem to help himself when it comes to Barton. Ever since that damned dream the day before. And then there were the waves of possessiveness and desire that had rolled off the other detective while he was using his glamour on Banner. It took all his restraint not to let the shapeshifter go and grab hold of the werewolf, in a very different way.

Not realising he’s echoing Clint’s words from earlier Coulson thinks _not the time, not the place_ as he feels the now familiar tightening of his pants when he thinks about Barton; his hand gripping the lycan’s neck as he presses his mouth to his throat. Aaaand that’s more than enough of that! Although it sparks another need in his mind.

Coulson flicks his eyes over to Clint. “I apologise for earlier. I shouldn’t have touched you without permission.”

Clint turns his head to stare at him. Even though his eyes are trained on the road again the vampire can feel Barton’s gaze burning into him. This could go either way. The werewolf made his feelings extremely clear about the use of glamour back at the precinct.

“Why did you?” Clint asks eventually. “How did you know it would work?”

Coulson risks another sideways glance. “Honestly? I didn’t but… I had to concentrate on Banner. You were… growling. Kinda distracting.”

Aw, no! The werewolf can feel his face colouring and quickly turns away from the vampire again. “I wasn’t gonna change,” he protests, folding his arms across his chest in annoyance.

“Didn’t think you were.” Coulson shrugs and adds, “Didn’t seem like that sort of growl.”

Aw, seriously no! Clint slides further down the seat, mortified at the implication. Not cool. Not cool at all. They lapse into another uncomfortable but somewhat charged silence until Clint asks, “Where are we going?”

“The precinct,” Coulson replies.

Clint’s surprised. He’s not sure how the Vampyre Division of SVU works but the Lycan Division would be heading to the victim’s family right now to break the bad news and get some background info, even if the victim was known. “Why? I figured you’d want to go see Triplett’s family.”

“I will but... I’ll drop you off first. Pick up May.”

Clint narrows his eyes and turns in back his seat to Coulson again. “Because I’m a ‘ _dawg_ ’?” His voice drips with sarcasm at his own use of the slur.

He can’t miss the edge to Clint’s voice but, as always, Coulson doesn’t rise to the bait. “Because you’re a lycan.”

“Fuck that! We’re supposed to be a team. You heard Fury earlier. Dunno about you, but I’m not ready to be replaced by Romanoff.”

The muscles in Coulson’s jaw jump a few times as he considers Barton’s words. To his knowledge there’s never been a werewolf at the primary House on Carroll Street. At least, not as a welcome visitor but those were darker days. Barton’s presence would create quite a ruckus with one or two vampires in particular if they were home.

“Would you have me anywhere near the Pack?” he asks finally, knowing the answer already. At least Clint has the decency to drop his gaze from Coulson’s when he doesn’t answer the question.

Coulson knows the smart thing to do is exactly what he said; drop off Barton, pick up May but instead he turns the SUV and heads to Park Slope.

What the hell. He’s spoiling for a fight with someone anyway.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all the readers of The Vampire and the Werewolf who have been hanging in there for the next instalment; your willingness to wait is really appreciated as are your feedback and comments after reading. You’re all fantastic.
> 
> I’m aiming to get two if not three chapters posted this weekend with another three soon to follow... all with plenty of cliff hangers. I know how much you like them. Mwah ha ha!
> 
> So I guess I just wanted to let you know I hadn’t forgotten about the story, or you. Thanks so much for your patience.
> 
> p.s. big hugs to BeneficialAddiction for 'bloodkin' - that was spot on!

“Well aware he’s a lycan, Billy. He’s also my partner from the precinct and… kinda under my protection. Maybe stop pointing your gun at him and give him a lanyard.”

Well, this is awkward. Tension is running a little on the high side and the three supernaturals are having a Reservoir Dogs type moment in the lobby of Coulson’s house on Carroll Street. Coulson’s big-ass brownstone _mansion_ on Carroll Street, Clint corrects in his head. His Pack House is no dilapidated shack but fuck! The four-figure bespoke suits should have tipped him off that the vampire would live in a place like this. Being immortal certainly has its perks.

Anyway, putting that aside for the moment, he figures the gun thing is pretty much to be expected with him being a werewolf deep in bloodsucker territory and all. He also figures Coulson is due for a much needed kick in the balls for his ‘ _under my protection_ ’ comment. He needs _no_ vampire’s protection.

“Ordinarily, sir, I’d be delighted but we don’t have a questionnaire or a lanyard suitable for this… for a… he’s a _lycan_ , sir!” Billy hisses once again at Coulson in a theatrical whisper.

“And still right here, Billy,” Clint says trying to keep the amusement from his tone and indeed his expression. And just for the sake of making things worse he brings his hands up, fingers curled into claws and growls “Raaawwwr” at the vampire with the gun. So what if Coulson rolls his eyes before closing them with a pained expression.

Billy glares angrily and tightens his grip on his sidearm. Without looking at Coulson but clearly addressing him, he says, “Sir, may I remind you I'm responsible for the security of this House, something I take very seriously…”

“Vampire Koenig,” Coulson interrupts sternly.

Clint freezes. Fuck! That voice! Clint hates/loves what it does to him. Commanding and authoritative it goes straight to his dick. Apparently it has a different effect on the little vampire dude but it does seem to bring him up short and snap him to attention. Okay. Maybe not that different however he refuses to check out Billy’s cock to see if it’s tenting his pants too. That would just be weird. But then weird pretty much describes his whole night so far.

Coulson puts himself between Clint and Billy. The two vampires both know Coulson could disarm him with ease but he has no wish to antagonise his bloodkin. As he talks, his voice has become calm and gentle more like the way he sounded with Banner earlier in the evening. He wants to defuse the situation not make it worse but he also wants to make it clear there will be no backing down. Not by him.

“There is no-one I trust more with the security of this House. I'm sorry if I made you doubt that but… Barton’s no threat to you here. He is however under my protection and... I will defend him if I have to. Is that understood, Vampire Koenig?”

Clint’s conflicted. On one hand - Coulson is now seriously overdue for that kick in the balls. “ _He’s no threat to you..._ ” Yeah? Take that shot, little guy, and you’ll find out exactly what sort of “no threat” I can be, he thinks. On the other - “ _I will defend him if I have to._ ” Coulson said that about _him_. A lycan. The fuck? No matter what he thinks about needing no vampire's protection, he's startled that Coulson would even suggest taking on one of his own to defend him and he's not sure how he feels about that; annoyed? delighted? turned on? Yeah, not sure at all.

Eyes remaining on Coulson’s, Billy thumbs on the safety and slowly lowers his gun. There’s a slight pout to his lips but he complies with the senior vampire’s request nonetheless.

Coulson nods his approval.

“If the Director is available this evening, it’s important that we talk,” he says in that same relaxed almost hypnotic tone.

Billy tries to hold Coulson’s gaze but can’t. Instead he makes a play of re-holstering his weapon before he responds snippily, “I’ll have to check on that, sir.”

The senior vampire raises his eyebrows. For the umpteenth time that night, the muscles in his jaw tighten. He’s about done with everyone’s shit. Clint - and now Billy, who’s just winced at the jaw clench thing - are very much aware of it.

“Coulson. I see you’ve brought a… friend with you,” says a voice coolly from above them. None of the supes can miss the slight in the pause left before the word ‘friend’. But then again, they’re not meant to.


	12. Chapter 12

All three turn their heads to watch a beautiful, raven-haired woman make her way gracefully down the carved oak staircase. Like the rest of her kind, she’s almost silent as she moves. Her hair is pulled back in a severe bun which accentuates high cheekbones and a strong chin. There’s no doubt in Clint’s mind who this is.

Eyebrows still raised, the corner of Coulson’s mouth turns up in amused affection before acknowledging the Head of his House with a respectful tilt of his head. 

“Vampire Director Hill.”

She halts on the second last stair causing the three males to look up at her. Another deliberate move on her part. Clint gets the feeling there's very little the Vampire Director does that's not calculated to unnerve or unbalance or, more likely, to be in control. Natasha would kill him for saying but oddly enough Hill reminds him of her.

“It’s always good to see you, Senior Vampire Coulson, but it’s unusual at this time of evening. To what do we owe the pleasure?” she asks him. There’s a hint of a smile playing on her lips which surprises Clint.

Although Coulson makes himself available for any member of his House whenever they need his advice or calming influence, and occasionally as a mentor to fledglings, he’s always been a solitary creature preferring his own company to that of others, unusual for one of his position. Now and again he’ll spend time with bloodkin such as May or Hill or the previous matriarch, Peggy Carter and her mate Steve Rogers; or sometimes non-bloodkin with whom he has a close relationship like the head of the SVU, Nick Fury, also Head Mage of the Brooklyn Clan. 

Further highlighting his reclusive nature, he rarely stays at the mansion nowadays instead choosing to keep his own apartment on the edge of the Brooklyn House’s territory. For him to appear without being requested or as part of his nightly reporting routine with Hill is rare.

Her words cause Coulson’s posture to stiffen and his face is now serious making her eyebrows come together in a concerned frown much like his. Her eyes scan over him noting the way his hands are held in front of him, left hand clasped over right. Vampire Director Hill has known Coulson a long time - since she was a fledgling herself when he was her guide and confidant - and recognises this as his duty stance. The presence of the lycan is now glaringly obvious; it’s not a social call, he’s here in his capacity as a V.L.A.D. detective. There’s been another murder and it’s one of their own.

“Who?” she asks sharply. 

“Trip,” he tells her quietly, dropping his gaze from hers as she hisses her dismay at the news. 

Apparently her anger doesn't extend to Coulson however. She continues down the last two steps to take the other vampire into her embrace. Without hesitating, Coulson returns the gesture, resting his cheek against Hill’s. He’s still an experienced and trusted advisor to her as well as her oldest friend and she knows instinctively he’s hurting not only from the death of Trip but from the knowledge he didn’t prevent it. He will always blame himself for the loss of the fledgling. 

Clint is astonished by the display of affection in front of him. The more he spends time around bloodsuckers… well this bloodsucker anyway, the more taken aback he becomes. He’s well aware vamps probably go through the same sort of shit other supernaturals do but they’re always so cold and aloof giving nothing away by either manner or expression. Can be kinda creepy actually. Plus they generally treat werewolves like they're something they've just stepped in, present company included. Until tonight anyway. 

In his own way perhaps he's just as bad. He's never really tried to look beyond what he’s read in the files or been handed down word of mouth, and he did spend the first week acting like a dick trying to bait Coulson into losing his cool at the precinct. He tries not to think too hard about the last time he tried that and how that ended up.

After a few moments Hill and Coulson pull back from each other.

“He will be missed,” Hill says quietly. Coulson nods then bows his head with hands held in front of him again.

With a consoling touch to the back of his hand, she heads towards a room off the lobby but Coulson doesn’t follow her. Instead he moves to stand beside Clint. Realising she’s walking alone the Vampire Director stops and turns.

“I’m sure Vampire Koenig can entertain the lycan while we talk,” she tells him with a raised eyebrow. It seems to be a ‘family’ trait. Billy meanwhile makes a noise like a cat coughing up a hairball. It would appear he’s as excited about the idea as Clint is.

Coulson stands firm refusing to move. He ducks his head and looks up at her with a smile ghosting across his lips. She narrows her eyes at him in return.

“I presume he’s under protection of the House?” she asks.

Coulson’s smile widens. Hill rolls her eyes. Another ‘family’ trait it would seem. 

As he watches the bizarre exchange between the two, Clint thinks it’s weird that Natasha does the eye roll thing a lot too. And what’s really worrying is that he appears to be the common denominator for its use by both factions. He’s also getting a kinda pissed off at them thinking he has to be under a vampire’s protection… and being called “the lycan”. He has a name for fuck sake!

With a very definite note of exasperation to her tone, Hill crosses her arms over her chest and says, “You could do this yourself you know, Coulson.” 

It’s what he’s been waiting for. Permission.

“Thank you, Director,” he responds with an appreciative nod. “Clinton Francis Barton...” 

Clint swears he doesn’t jump at the use of his full name. Well only a tiny bit and he’ll argue with anyone who says differently. 

“...I, Phillip J Coulson, Senior Vampire and Deputy Director of House Brooklyn hereby place you under the protection of this House and its bloodkin. You are granted permission to enter freely in the company of myself and myself alone, and shall be accorded the rights of Companion; to be given safe passage at all times forthwith and to fear no attack without defense on your behalf or retaliation in your name.”

Hill shakes her head and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “Asshole!” at him and continues through to the huge living space with two enormous couches which face each other in the centre of the room.

“The fuck was all that about?” Clint mutters to Coulson as they follow few steps behind.

“Later,” he replies. “You coming or do you want want me to take you home so you change first because... you’re making the place look kinda untidy.”

“Fuck you, bloodsucker,” Clint grins. 

“In your…” Coulson stops abruptly snapping his mouth shut. They both know how that went the last time he uttered those words in full.


	13. Chapter 13

They quickly look away from each other and join Hill in the living area. Billy stays with them and stands discreetly behind the Vampire Director who sits on the couch facing the door, a tactically superior position. She leans into the backrest, elbow on the arm of the couch, legs crossed. She looks relaxed and in control.

“Talk to me,” she says to Coulson as he unbuttons his jacket and sits opposite her mirroring her relaxed pose. His legs remain open however.

Not happy about having his back to the door, Clint nevertheless takes the seat next to him. He leans forward with his legs apart, elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. In addition to the seating arrangements, he’s also not happy about Coulson letting the other immortal call the shots.

“What was Trip working on?” Coulson asks calmly, not submitting to her command. Clint doesn't react but he's surprised, and pleased, to find he was wrong in thinking that the vampire would defer to his Head of House over the investigation.

Hill’s forefinger taps against the armrest in mild irritation. She doesn't answer immediately obviously not used to her orders being ignored. She knows he wouldn’t challenge her authority in public so she allows Coulson some leeway in private understanding that his case must come first. She’s only irked by the fact he does so in front of the lycan.

When he doesn’t give in or explode in a ball of flames under the heat of her glare she tells finally him, “Other than his regular night-to-night duties… I believe it may have been something for you.”

Coulson frowns. The only thing he’d had the fledgling look into for him recently was in relation to the death of Billy’s brother, Eric which had happened shortly before Fury called on him to head up the V.L.A.D. Unit with Clint. As far as he was aware Trip had hit a brick wall with his enquiries - as had Coulson before him much to his regret, although it hadn’t stopped him looking into it whenever he was able with the assistance of his protégé. The Koenigs were bloodkin and he wouldn't rest until the killer had been caught and dealt with. Revenge or justice, he didn't much care.

The last time he’d spoken with the young vampire, less than a week before his own murder, there had been nothing to indicate he was any further forward or that there was a link between the two cases. Perhaps something had come to light within the past few days; something that had caused Trip to delve deeper into Eric's murder and make some connection he was unaware of. Or perhaps he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way and no matter how painful, he knows he has to say what Trip was investigating. There's always the possibility he may have hinted at or even openly discussed something that could shed some light on his death. Or Eric's.

He gives the head of House security an apologetic look and says formally but with a gentleness to his tone, “He was working on Eric’s case, Vampire Koenig. Did he mention anything to you?"

Billy drops his gaze to his shoes for a moment collecting his thoughts and his emotions. Of all his brothers, he was closest to Eric and even though it's not implied by Coulson, the thought that Trip may have died investigating his death is a crushing blow. Crestfallen, he lifts his head and shakes it in the negative.

“I didn’t realise,” he responds quietly.

Coulson gives him a sympathetic nod. He believes that Billy didn’t know secure in the knowledge he would say if he did. He doesn’t offer his pity. Billy needs closure not platitudes and the best way to do that is to continue the investigation into both murders and catch the killers. Or perhaps killer if there is a link.

“Did he seem troubled or excited about anything?” The question’s intended for either of his bloodkin to answer.

Clint watches the Director’s reaction carefully. She gives the senior vampire a genuine smile that softens her features.

“He was Trip, Coulson. When did he _ever_ seem troubled about anything?”

She was right about that. Before his Turning, Antoine Triplett had always been ready with a joke and a smile. Afterwards, his nature never changed as can sometimes happen. But Trip still brought “... _the noise and funk_ …” wherever he went. Coulson gives her a sad smile and a nod in return.

The questions and answers continued: yes, he seemed to be keeping to his usual routines, at least until the last few nights before his death when he’d arrived home almost too close to sunrise - extremely dangerous for a fledgling. Hill had resolved to speak to him about it, she just never got the chance; no, there was nothing out of the ordinary about his behaviour except the return at sunrise issue; yes, he was coping with his workload and handing in reports that were typical for him - precise and succinct, just as Coulson had taught him. That earns another flash of a smile from the senior vampire.

As far as either of them knew he wasn’t frequenting any unusual places or seeing anyone outwith his regular friends and associates, although Hill admitted they couldn’t be sure, especially in the lead up to his murder.

While the vampire asks the questions, methodically and efficiently, the lycan watches the two immortals closely. Hill answers with Billy adding to her responses every so often. With his limited experience in this type of interaction with immortals Clint doesn't know for definite if either is lying. Neither appears ill at ease; they aren't acting furtively and, as far as he can tell, they don't seem to be hiding anything. Coulson can confirm this later. Or otherwise, of course.

When the interview seems to be reaching its natural conclusion, Clint gives Coulson a sideways glance. He has his own question for them. At the vampire’s brief nod, he holds out a photo showing the wrist of one of the lycan victims which had the xoxo marks carved into it and asks, “Does this mean anything to you?”

Hill and Billy look at it closely for a few moments. Hill returns the photo to him and shakes her head. “No. Should it?”

Clint shrugs. “M’not sure. I guess…”

“Actually… it does.”


	14. Chapter 14

All three pairs of eyes fix on Billy.

“Excuse me a moment,” he says.

And with that he’s gone. Not disappeared exactly but fuck the little guy can move quick. Hill and Coulson don’t try to hide their amusement at the look on Clint’s face. He ducks his head and huffs out an embarrassed laugh.

“He just doesn’t look like he should be able to move that quick,” he mutters with a wry grin.

“There are a lot of things Vampire Koenig can do that would surprise you,” Hill tells him.

“There are a lot of things the Koenig _family_ can do that would surprise you,” Coulson adds. Hill and Coulson exchange looks. Clint’s not sure if they’re amusing themselves at his expense but for some reason he’s not particularly offended. In fact he feels oddly… comforted by it. And that’s just weird. Anyway, moving on.

“I’d like to ask something about Trip and I’m not trying to offend you or his memory.”

“Continue,” Hill tells him. The cool note is back in her tone and if he were a lesser supe, he’d probably be shitting bricks by now. But he’s not. He’s Clint Barton, Beta of the Brooklyn Pack. But for the sake of the investigation and, if not for Coulson’s friendship then at least his respect, he’ll tread with caution. But he’s not afraid.

“If he was as good as you claim he was...” He puts his hands up in a placating gesture before continuing “…and I’m not doubting it but...” He hesitates wondering how to phrase his question without pissing off the two most powerful vampires in Brooklyn. Still not afraid.

“How did someone get the drop on him?” Coulson finishes for him. Clint nods grateful the immortal has understood what he was getting at. The lack of heat in the vampire’s response makes him believe Coulson has already thought about it. Or he's just doing that creepy unemotional thing.

“You think it was someone he knew? A vampire of this house?” Hill asks not sounding particularly convinced or particularly angry either. See? Creepy. She looks at Clint then turns her gaze to Coulson where it remains fixed.

“It had crossed my mind,” her second tells her thoughtfully.

She shakes her head. To admit that is to admit there’s a traitor in their midst and that she will not, _cannot_ believe.

“Find another explanation, Coulson. That one is unacceptable.”

He nods. Of course he’ll consider other options; that goes without saying but, at the moment, it’s an obvious conclusion.

“And the lycans? Do you think it’s a vampire killing them also or one of your own?” This question is aimed at Clint as is her penetrating gaze. Still not afraid.

“It’s possible it could be either. It’s also possible it could be both.” Oops! Maybe he should have consulted Coulson before throwing that one out there.

He flicks his eyes across to his partner whose expression remains inscrutable. Man! Vampires are a pain in the ass for reading! Still his jaw muscles are relaxed and the corner of his mouth is turned up in that half smile of his so it would appear he’s not pissed off at least.

“A vampire and lycan murder team. To what end?” Hill asks.

Clint shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Right now it’s only a theory.”

“Or perhaps a wild guess?” she suggests with with a raised eyebrow and what Clint _thinks_ is a hint of humour.

Before he can reply, Billy reappears. In his hand is a paper napkin from a coffee shop ‘The Coffee Apothecary’. At Coulson’s subtle nod he hands it to Clint and sure enough, embossed in the corner is the xoxo design.

Clint studies it, his thoughts whirling. It _has_ to mean something. But other than ' _hugs and kisses_ ' like you'd see at the end of a text, he just can’t think what. He realises he’s been sitting there for fuck knows how long staring at the damn thing and looks up at Billy giving him a quick grin.

“Thanks for this.”

Billy nods. “Do you think it will help?”

“Yeah. I do. And for what it’s worth, Vampire Koenig, I’m sorry about your brother.”

The head of security gives his a small smile of his own before turning to Coulson. “Is there anything I can do, sir? He was my brother and…”

He trails off with a swallow.

Coulson stands slipping into his formal stance before placing one hand on Billy’s shoulder.

“No, Vampire Koenig. But… I appreciate your offer. As always, thank you for your service to this House… Actually...”

Coulson stops abruptly and looks thoughtful for a moment. Clint swears he can see the cogs in the vampire’s head actually turning.

“Actually, there may well be but… I need to think the details through. For now, if you hear of or see anything with that symbol, contact me. Or Detective Barton. And Billy… have faith. I will need you nearer the time. You and the others.”

Clint gives his partner a strange look. What the hell does “ _nearer the time_ ” mean? And what others?

Looking happy since the first time they mentioned Eric’s name, Billy straightens his shoulders and juts out his chin. “Whatever you need, sir, we’ll be there.”

He turns to Vampire Director Hill and asks if she has further need of him. She shakes her head in the negative and he bows his head respectfully, taking his leave of her.

Coulson occupies his seat beside Clint again and calmly gives Hill a brief report on the evening’s events preceding and during their time at the crime scene (leaving out the part with the raging hormones on both his and Clint’s sides much to the werewolf’s relief).

She listens without interrupting then nods her acceptance of his report. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“I won’t be back for our usual meeting tonight but other than that I don’t believe so, Director.”

“Of course.”

She stands signalling and end to the proceedings prompting the other two to get to their feet with her.

“Oh! And one last thing,” Coulson adds.

“Who are you? Columbo?” she tells him arching her eyebrow at him.

He ducks his head and smirks at her reference to the old cop show the two of them used to watch (and occasionally still do when time and mood allows).

“Wouldn’t be seen dead in that raincoat,” he deadpans.

She snorts at him then quickly catches herself.

“We’ll need Trip’s laptop and any notes he may have taken.”

Hill nods. “You know where his room is. Take what you need.”

She gives Clint a look which is neither hostile nor friendly. He takes that as a win.

“I appreciate what you said to Vampire Koenig, especially for using the his formal title,” she informs him.

He nods to her. It was no big deal, a matter of courtesy is all but formality seems to be big at House Brooklyn. It’s different but not so different to werewolf politics in a way. The pack is just a lot less stick-up-your-ass about it.

“Pleasure to meet you both, ma’am,” he tells her as politely as he can. In reality he still has mixed feelings towards the Vampire Director. Part of him almost likes her - the other part wants to Shift and rip her throat out.

She glares at him, unblinking with a raised eyebrow and a disdainful expression. “I seriously doubt that, detective, but I like you for lying.”

Any further conversation is halted thanks to loud raucous laughter in the lobby which comes to an abrupt halt. After a few seconds a loud voice demands “Why the _fuck_ does it smell like wet dog in here?”


	15. Chapter 15

As they appear from the living area to the lobby they’re met by three large musclebound immortals bristling with rage.

“ _Here_? You bring _that_ … _here_?” one of the new arrivals spits at them.

Clint, currently standing between Coulson and Hill tenses, adrenaline coursing through his body. And just when things had been going so well… with him the only werewolf… in a house full of vampires.

“Need to move with the times, Rumlow,” Coulson returns mildly, a lazy smile working its way across his lips. He appears completely unruffled but it does little to calm Clint who’s fighting the urge to Shift. Might be considered impolite being in Coulson’s house under his protection and all.

Like Coulson, Rumlow was Turned in a time of war; at the height of when vampires and werewolves were literally at each other's throats. Unlike Coulson however he'd never learned to adapt. He was still fire and blood and hatred as are the two flanking him.

“Did _you_ allow the dog to cross the threshold?” Rumlow demands of Hill.

Except for a raised eyebrow, the Vampire Director doesn’t bother to respond. She should put him down for talking to her like that but she’s not the one who has to work the emotions out of her system. And it appears only she's noticed Coulson casually opening the middle button of his jacket. Well now, this should be fun.

“I gave the Oath,” Coulson tells him in a calm voice before dropping his chin to his chest as he nonchalantly smooths his hand down his tie. “He’s under _my_ protection.”

While he watches the interaction between the two, Clint suddenly understands Phil’s position within the House - he’s a Beta, like him. He gives of himself for the benefit of the House, takes care of the family members and maintains peace and order. He also understands had Hill given this 'Oath' thing, he’d be under _her_ protection. Even with her Beta there, she’d have to accept any challenges which involved him, putting her position as House Alpha at risk. With Phil giving it he takes on the responsibility. Vampire hierarchy is as complex as lycan apparently.

Slowly Coulson raises his head and looks Rumlow in the eyes; his own have turned violet and the other vampire’s widened in surprise before he laughs.

“You think _you_ can take _me_ on?” he sneers.

Rumlow’s clever and a good tactician but he’s strictly old school; attack first, ask questions when the problem’s stopped breathing. That’s why he’s not made it onto any of Coulson’s teams in nearly a century - why he’s not made it beyond the Enforcement Division within the SVU at all. Coulson will admit that vampires like Rumlow are still needed but there’s a time and a place and these days it will not be with him.

The senior vampire tilts his head to the side and looks up his smile deepening. “Already taken care of two assholes today and three’s... kinda my lucky number.”

Almost before Clint can register what’s happening Coulson’s moving in a blur, his preternatural speed kicking in. One of the vampires is already down not having a chance to prepare himself for the fight; the second is caught by the throat, Coulson’s fingers gripping tight to the windpipe barely stopping short of crushing it, before the senior vampire lifts him off his feet and drops to one knee slamming his adversary into the floor. The force of the blow leaves him with shattered bones and unconscious, and the floor needing thousands of dollars worth of repairs. Hill almost winces at the damage to the beautiful oak boards. The vampire, not so much.

That leaves Rumlow who hasn’t moved during the exchange. Now however he’s very much part of things. As Coulson rises from his bended knee, the mouthy vampire aims a kick at his face. Coulson blocks it with both forearms but doesn’t manage to escape the follow-up blow to the side of his head as he gets to his feet which nearly knocks him on his ass. He recovers quickly though and the next few seconds are another blur to Clint as the two vampires trade strikes and kicks, blocking and spinning, until Rumlow apparently lands a tremendous punch to the V.L.A.D. detective’s chest sending him crashing backwards into the wall. Clint cringes as the plaster cracks around him. Coulson looks dazed and in pain.

Clint takes a step forward but Hill’s hand on his arm, her grip firm and unyielding like bands of steel, holds him in place. He looks at her in disbelief. Coulson - her second and her friend - is hurt and she’s doing nothing. He tries to pull away, to go to his assistance but she smiles and shakes her head.

“Wait,” she grins, her eyes glinting. Okay… _now_ he’s fucking scared.

With a satisfied smirk the enforcer quickly closes in on the wounded vampire. Coulson however has other ideas. As the bigger immortal nears him, he pivots out of the his reach suddenly much less injured than he appeared and launches himself forwards him placing one foot on Rumlow’s thigh while throwing his other leg round his neck. Keeping the spin momentum going, the senior vampire leans back using the bigger man’s own weight against him forcing him to the ground. When they’re down, Rumlow on his back on top of Coulson, he wraps his arm around Rumlow’s throat and his legs around his thighs, his vice-like grip preventing the other vampire from moving.

The last thing Clint sees before being forcibly dragged away by Billy - who has appeared from fuck knows where and fuck knows when - is Coulson’s fangs descending as he slowly tilts his head back. What he doesn’t see is him dropping his head forward sinking them deep into the other vampire’s neck to claim victory.


	16. Chapter 16

“He’ll be fine, Detective Barton,” Billy tells him cheerfully, his face breaking into an easy smile. “He’d pretty much won by the time we were leaving.”

“By the time you _dragged me out_ ,” Clint corrects with a snarl and a murderous look on his face. “The _fuck_ , man?”

The adrenaline rush is starting to drain from his system but not the need to Shift. He leans his back against the balustrade and slumps down the stonework to hunker down on a step as he breathes deep in through his nose and slowly out through his mouth doing his best to keep his shit together. Things have just gone fucking nuts and the little vampire dude is regaling him with tales of Coulson skills as a warrior back in the day. Any other time Clint would probably love to hear about it (no, not really cuz it probably involves ripping the still beating hearts out of werewolves) but _hello_ … trying not to Shift here.

“Clint? You alright? Clint?” The voice is gravelly but gentle and it’s not Billy’s. Thank fuck! It’s Coulson. How long has he even _been_ there?

“‘M’kay” he murmurs, sounding anything but okay. He’s so damned turned on.

“Do you need help? Do you want me to touch you?” the vampire asks carefully, sitting on the step beside him. Not too close; enough that Clint can feel his presence but not so much that he’s in Clint’s space.

Touch me? How about you fuck the life out of me, right here against this fucking stairway, Clint responds. Fortunately it’s in his mind so Coulson doesn’t hear him. Instead, he shakes his head to say no.

“‘M’kay” he repeats. It’s bullshit but whatever. Between Coulson’s defence of him and his own primal urges, if Coulson lays his hand on him right now, it won’t have the calming effect the vampire’s expecting. It’ll either send him over the edge into a Shift or have him trying to fuck his way into Coulson’s pants. Either way probably best if he keeps his distance.

He gives Coulson a quick look and notices there’s colour about his face and his lips. The memory of Coulson’s fangs dropping comes back to him. Shit! He must have fed on at least one of the other immortals. That's kinda fucked up. And kinda hot. Which is even more fucked up. His brain (not to mention his dick) is having issues here.

“Are they…?”

“They’ll survive,” the vampire says grimly, understanding he’s talking about the SVU Enforcers. He shrugs and ducks his head, giving Clint a sideways glance which is surprisingly full of devilment. As is the grin he’s wearing. “They might be out of commission for a while…”

It doesn’t last long however and he suddenly becomes serious again.

“My sincerest apologies, Detective Barton. That should never have happened; you were under my protection and... they should have had more control. The Director and I will deal with it formally and I'll handle it personally. It will never happen again.”

Clint nods accepting his apology not really caring about the formal shit although he can't say he's sorry Coulson's going to take names and fuck them up. Detective Barton, eh? Well isn’t _that_ a bucket of iced water on his dick! Ahhh! Probably a good thing. Not like it's ever gonna happen.

After a couple of minutes Clint gets to his feet followed by the vampire. He’s shaking slightly… _vibrating_ might be a better word, still teetering on the edge but he has it under control. Clint's eyes keep darting in the direction of the park, as they stand on the sidewalk. His muscles are tense and he seems ready to explode. His scent is changing too.

“You want to Run, don't you.”

It wasn't a question. His whole body screams to the vampire that’s what he wants… or perhaps needs. At Coulson’s words - at his voice - Clint shivers. Carefully he nods.

“Understood,” Coulson tells him. “But… not here.”

The were looks at him. “Why?”

“They'll see it as a challenge. You Shift here, now, this deep in Vampire Territory, they'll be right. Not doubting your skills, Clint but… you’re one werewolf against a pack of hunters. And they won’t stop until they’ve brought you down.”

He knows the immortal is right however part of him doesn’t give a fuck. They had attacked him while he was under House protection. But the more pragmatic part of him accepts what Coulson is saying. He just needs to Shift. Run hard and fast until he drops - the pent up energy that would have been released in a fight, release in the pleasure of the Run. Again he nods.

“Can you wait? Just for a couple of minutes.”

“Why?” Clint’s voice is strained. He probably can but it’s going to be a near thing.

“My apartment’s nearby but it’s on the edge of the Territory. I can’t guarantee your safety but for them to act there is a line I don’t think even they would be willing to cross.”

“You’re that sure of yourself?” A bit of amusement has crept into Clint’s voice.

The vampire smirks at him again. He’s that sure of himself.

Clint’s skin is beginning to prickle. The Shift is coming and he doesn’t want to stop it. He wants to embrace it: to get rid of his clothes and feel the moon and air on his skin; to feel the breeze ruffling his fur when Runs.

“Let’s go,” he says getting into the SUV. He’s going to have to trust Coulson. Again.

Coulson joins him and pulls the vehicle away from the sidewalk and with his usual competence has the car moving easily through the traffic. A few minutes later he indicates and pulls over to the curb turning off the ignition.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

Clint’s surprised by what sounds like genuine concern. The Shift is still coming but it feels less urgent now. His control over it now will be more fine tuned.

“Better. Thanks,” he adds gruffly. He takes a few minutes to observe the surroundings and catch his bearings. They’re still in Park Slope, but there’s less sense of vampire.

“Always on the edge, Coulson?”

The smirk returns to the other supe’s face.

“Always,” he agrees.

For some reason that encourages another shiver from the were. It doesn’t escape Coulson’s notice. He leans closer to Clint and repeats his words from earlier into his ear. He can’t miss the huskiness in the vampire’s voice.

“You want to Run, don't you dog?”

The lycan’s eyes glint and change from a blue/green into an amber/gold. Coulson’s smile deepens.

“Good boy,” he murmurs.

***

“...Parkside Avenue.”

Clint’s concentrating on the Shift and misses part of what Coulson says to him but he understands that he means to meet up with him at the Parkside Avenue entrance and nods while he begins to strip.

Coulson’s impressed by the speed at which he removes his clothing but not as much as he is by what’s underneath. When Clint peels the Henley from his body revealing smooth, golden skin covering muscles that flex and ripple as he moves, he almost can’t look away. Everything about the other supe is perfect. Everything. But as Clint’s hands reach for the button of his jeans and unfasten it, the vampire swallows thickly and turns his back to give him privacy. It’s hard ( _he’s_ hard but that’s something else entirely) but if he doesn’t, well he’s pretty sure that loud, wild, sweaty sex in a public park is still against the law… and wouldn’t _that_ be embarrassing.

It's Clint's turn to smirk when he sees that the vampire is still watching him and he’s a little disappointed when he turns round. Still, once again, it’s probably a good thing. There’s nothing against public nudity for a lycan in the middle of a Shift but going at it like couple of horny teenagers in the bushes is still considered to be against public decency laws. Besides, he doesn’t want to fuck in his Wolf form. He wants Coulson’s cock deep inside him, or his deep inside Coulson, when he can remember every thrust, every moan and every orgasm. He almost sobs at the thought and quickly finishes stripping.

Right now he needs to Run.

A few minutes later Coulson feels the touch of a cold, wet nose against the palm of his hand. He looks down and the Wolf stares back at him with those startling amber/gold eyes that shine with intelligence and mischief. He’s beautiful. And huge! Maybe seven feet from nose to tail. His top layer of guard hair is painted in stripes of grey/blonde/brown and a dark grey strip runs down his spine. The dark grey markings also appear on the tip of his tail and on his head, the base of his ears and his ‘mask’. His chest is deep and broad and his shoulders are wide and muscular. As strange as it is for the vampire to acknowledge it, he’s as perfect in Wolf form as he is in human.

Coulson allows Wolf-Clint to scent his hand before running it over his head smoothing the fur between his ears, down his neck to his shoulders where he scratches hard burying his fingers in the thick fur of his mane. Wolf-Clint leans against Coulson’s hip making happy grumbling noises at his touch.

Coulson’s not sure if he’s still fucked up from the earlier fight and he knows it can’t last. He’s Vampyre. Barton’s Lycan. They’re not meant to be together but this feels… good. It feels rignt. He closes his eyes to centre himself then leans down and growls into Clint’s ear, “Enjoy the moon, dog. Now RUN!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for a wee while, folks. Need to recharge my batteries but the boys will be back as soon as I can the next part written. Some more UST, a bit more light on the xoxo clue and the plot thickens with some twists and turns. Plus the UST has to be resolved at some stage... doesn't it?
> 
> Thank you so much for staying with the story and giving me such amazing feedback. It's incredible and means so much to me.


	17. Chapter 17

And Wolf-Clint is off, streaking away like an arrow loosed from a bow. But for some reason he doesn’t go far. He comes to a sudden halt and turns, trotting back to Coulson, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. He gets within a few feet of the vampire and for a moment just stares at him. Then slowly, approaching stealthily with his belly low to the ground, he closes the distance never taking his eyes off his prey.

Coulson doesn’t move. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on. If it was an attack he’s fairly certain it would have happened quickly and the pair would be fighting it out already. He’s considering his options when Clint darts in to make a mock pounce at Coulson's ankles before dropping into a deep forward bow, forepaws stretched out, rump raised high and his tail slowly wagging. Without warning, he suddenly leaps up to nudge Coulson’s thigh with his nose then dodges away a few feet before turning to look back, dropping into the bow again.

Coulson narrows his eyes as he tries to comprehend Wolf-Clint’s behaviour and feels a burst of emotion surge through him as the meaning of his posturing gradually dawns on him. He smiles. A beautiful, wide smile that lights up his face and creases the corners of his eyes.

Wolf-Clint wants Coulson to play with him. To Run with him.

He’s deeply honoured and incredibly tempted by the request but he resists the urge to do so. He knows Clint needs this as a way of decompressing after the stress back at the House. The werewolf doesn’t need him muddying the waters, no matter how much he may want to join him. However insane it seems.

He crouches down holding firm as Clint lopes over to rub his muzzle against Coulson’s face and neck making those short grunting noises again. The Wolf’s ears are slightly laid back, his eyes and jaw are relaxed and he’s panting slightly as he pushes his face against the vampire’s. His body language makes Coulson believe he’s happy and he’s good with that.

He digs his fingers into Clint’s mane again, scratching and tugging at the thick fur which Wolf-Clint apparently likes going by the chuffing sounds and flicks of his tail.

“Not this time, dog,” Coulson tells him softly. “Maybe another... if you still want me to. But tonight is for you. Go have fun.”

With a final rub of his head against Coulson’s cheekbone, Clint pulls back and ambles off. He gives Coulson one last glance over his shoulder then races away his body stretching in long, powerful strides before darting and weaving in an imaginary game of chase.

Phil watches him delighted that the wolf is happy but there’s a touch of longing in his chest. It had taken a lot for him to say no even though it was the right thing to do. But if Clint were ever to ask him again, he knows - without doubt, no matter how foolish - his answer will be yes.

His vampire eyes continue to follow the wolf when human ones would have lost him by now; past the Picnic House through Long Meadow heading towards the ravine. Finally, when he can no longer see him, he bends down to pick up his partner’s clothing taking it back to the SUV. It wouldn’t do to have him walk naked into the precinct. Funny yes but smart? Not so much.

***

Part of him is disappointed Coulson doesn’t join him. But the part of Wolf-Clint’s soul that is connected to the Run is loving the solitude and freedom. The light breeze in his face ruffles through his hair carrying the scents and sounds of the night. It’s perfect.

He gets and accepts Coulson’s reasoning behind his refusal and knows it’s the correct decision but he hopes he has the opportunity to ask him again. The challenge of Lycan Running with Vampyre would be incredible… if a little insane! But there’s something about Coulson - a familiarity, an intimacy - he can’t place and he doesn’t really understand. He could sense it when Coulson pinned him against the wall in the precinct last night, his body pressed against his own (god! Had that sex dream only been the day before?). And again when Coulson had touched him, however briefly, back at the crime scene. And he sensed, or maybe scented, it a third time moments ago when he rubbed his muzzle against Coulson’s face. His strong, handsome face.

An involuntary shiver rolls down his back from his mane to his tail. He may be Wolf right now but his thoughts are still Clint’s and his attraction to the vampire both scares and excites him. Lycan and Vampyre… they’re not meant to be and he can’t keep thinking like this. It’s only going to hurt them both in the end.

His stride falters for a moment, his heart suddenly heavy but he finally lets his Wolf-side take over and throws human-Clint from his mind.

His intention is just to sprint through the park a couple of times, getting rid of the pent up energy that’s been building since the fun and games back at Coulson’s House but he picks up a few intriguing smells that pique his animal curiosity and need to be investigated.

He lifts his head pointing his nose into the breeze before resuming his lope to track the scents to their sources; the carcass of a dead squirrel down in the ravine the stench of which is so awful, it’s _good_ and he desperately wants to roll in it. In the end he resists the temptation. He knows neither Coulson nor Fury will be amused if he goes back smelling that rank. Besides Coulson probably wouldn’t even let him in the car. Be funny to see the look on his face though. Regretfully he moves on.

In amongst the high-pitched squeaks and chirps of low-flying bats here are the sounds and scents of rutting by a couple of red foxes deeper in the bushes and shrubs of Midwood. As voyeurism's not his kink he moves on quickly trying to close his ears against the barks and screams of the pair. A little farther along, he can hear the crunching of leaves and some intense snuffling. He sticks his head in the end of a nearby hollow log only to be grunted and chattered at indignantly by an opossum that promptly falls over and plays dead. Wolf-Clint snorts in amusement, too old and too wise to be taken in by its Oscar winning performance. He trots off uninterested in having it for a snack tonight. As Wolf-Clint's footfall gradually fades into the background, the opossum gets up and goes back to hunting insects and mice and whatever else maybe around.

When Clint nears Breeze Hill he scents Pack. His Pack House is nearby on Rutland Road and he's sorely tempted to visit them for some reassurance but he’s still on the clock. He could take some personal time, Coulson would back him he’s sure, but he feels like he’s taking advantage of… well whatever they have as it is and he doesn’t want to push it any further. He already appreciates Coulson bringing him here to Run.

He lifts his head again and inhales in the familiar smells, breathing them deep into his lungs. It calms him. There's a single territorial howl quickly picked up by other members of the Pack which he joins in with then all is quiet again. It tells him all's well with them and does enough to give him some of the much needed reassurance he was looking for. Realising his scent will be different tonight, he was ready for a challenge by a Pack member but his answering howl is enough to put them at ease too.

He’s about to carry on down towards the Parkside Avenue entrance at Drummer’s Grove when he suddenly changes his direction. Although he’s much calmer he’s not Run yet and he needs that. He turns and heads towards Terrace Bridge crossing it a speed and charges at full pelt over to Lookout Hill. From there he follows the curves of lake running hard and fast over the grass and through the undergrowth only faintly taking in the nighttime soundtrack of the occasional quack and flap of a duck or two around the lake, insects chirping in the grass and the quiet splash of a snapping turtle as it slides into the water.

As a result of his earlier meanderings, it takes Clint longer to reach the agreed meeting place than he anticipates and Coulson is already there, waiting. He’s leaning against the side of the SUV, arms folded over his chest, ankles crossed, and that sexy-yet-infuriating smirk on his face as Wolf-Clint peers at him from round a pillar of the entrance gates.

Coulson pushes himself off the car and lifts Clint’s pile of clothes from the bonnet taking it over to him setting it down just inside the gate.

“Welcome back, dog,” he tells him with a twinkle in his eyes. "Ready to go back to work? Cuz... there's been a development in the case."


	18. Chapter 18

The team’s already gathered in the briefing room when Coulson and Clint stroll in. Natasha and Melinda take one look at them and give pretty epic eye rolls. It’s made all the more effective by the fact they do it at exactly the same time independent of each other.

Although they both look serious and determined, Coulson is still flushed from his earlier feed and Clint is exhilarated from his Run. Admittedly, their demeanour could be misconstrued as something else, something of a more... _sexual_ nature and that appears to be the route Natasha’s and Melinda’s minds have taken. Close but no cigar…. or post-orgasm glow.

The tips of Coulson’s ears burn when he catches sight of May’s carefully blank expression and he knows he’s in for shit later. At least until he can tell her what went down in more detail. Then she's going to be _really_ pissed. Albeit not at him, thankfully. He wants to smirk at the thought of May going badass at the lack of control shown in front of Clint at the House but wisely keeps his face impassive.

Clint too sees the benefits of wearing a poker-face right about now and manages to hide his grin at Natasha’s eerily similar countenance. He’ll fill her in later about the night’s excitement. He doesn’t particularly want anyone to be there when Natasha loses her shit when she finds out where he’s been, and all that happened in vampire territory. Well, maybe not _all_ that happened. Yeah… who’s he kidding? Of course she’s going to pry all the juicy details from him.

As for the news of the latest victim, they've decided to wait until the end of the briefing before releasing Trip’s name. For now, only May is aware. Coulson told her when she called him on his cell earlier while he waited for Clint at the park. Although she had known the fledgeling, it was Daisy who had been especially close to him having helped him through his transition, and the pair had remained friends ever since. The news is going to hit her hard so Coulson wants to tell her alone.

Clint had listened to Coulson’s explanation and agreed to hold off, appreciating his compassion behind the request - Coulson knows his supes best after all. And it's just another touch that gives him a little more insight into Coulson's personality. The other vampire detective, Gutierrez, is new to the V.L.A.D. team having recently joined from another precinct and hadn't known Trip at all so it won't be quite as personal for him. He'll be fine hearing it from Clint along with the others.

No-one will be expecting the news immediately anyway. It had taken time for an ID to come through with previous victims and there’s no reason for them to think anything different this time. Besides he, like Coulson, is interested what the other detectives have discovered.

Coulson carefully sets Trip’s laptop on the desk at the front of the room. He opens the button of his suit jacket smoothing his hand down his tie while he perches on a corner of the desk. He nods to Natasha.

“Perhaps you can give us an update, Detective Romanoff.”

Clint and he discussed it on their journey up from the precinct garage. Coulson will take the role of lead, interacting with Natasha during the briefing; _he’ll_ work with May as required. He'll also get everyone up to speed on his and Coulson's night while the vampire talks to Daisy. Their belief is that working this way will reinforce the collaboration between the two species and strengthen the teamwork they’re finally beginning to show.

If Natasha is surprised, she doesn’t show it. She simply returns the gesture and starts the briefing.

“May, Rodriguez, Gutierrez and I have been reviewing the murder books of all the victims but instead of going over them as individual cases, we paired up - lycan to vampire - and looked at them as a whole. We caught several things that had been missed before. And honestly, I don’t know whether to be grateful or pissed at that.”

She glances over to May at that comment. Both of them had been elated when the team finally began to spot connections between the victims. And then angry. This could have happened a week ago had it not been for the inter-species in-fighting. It might even have saved Trip.

Clint gives her a sympathetic glance acknowledging her words. It appears he and Coulson aren’t the only ones to take it personally. He’s just sorry it had taken another murder for them to start acting like cops instead of enemies. They’d played into the unsub's hands granting them the time to take another life. However, now they have to move on.

“The blame is not with you, detective,” Coulson tells her. “Barton and I will bear that responsibility. Please continue.”

Natasha nods in acceptance. In some strange way, she's pleased he included Clint in the blame game thereby treating him as an equal. Progress has not just been made by those at the precinct it seems. Good!

She indicates towards the boards which have been re-worked to show what the team has uncovered. Both Coulson and Clint notice the 'xoxo’ symbol features prominently throughout but they say nothing letting her explain things in her own way.

“So far all of the victims have visited one or more of three places in the Clinton Hill area; Batty’s Gym on Washington Avenue, a bar on Fulton Street called The Hunter’s Moon, and a coffee shop also on Fulton - The Coffee Apothecary.”

Coulson and Clint give each other a sharp look at the mention of the coffee house. It’s the same one Billy had been to.

“As for the 'xoxo’ symbol carved into the victims’ skin, Daisy and Mack have found a possible meaning. Daisy?”

The vampire looks up at the mention of her name. “Uh… sure. Okay.”

She fiddles with her laptop for a second then images of the pattern flash onto the large monitor fixed to the wall where the lead detectives were leaning against the desk. Clint joins Coulson at his side, and the pair turns to view at the information Daisy’s talking them though. Coulson has his arms folded across his chest, head tilted to the side in that attentive way he has; Clint has his hands in his pockets, his shoulder lightly touching Coulson’s but they’re too focussed on Daisy’s words to notice. May and Natasha miss nothing, however. Eyebrows are raised.

“At first we figured hugs and kisses, y’know like when you’re sending a text.” As Daisy speaks ‘ _B@U GR8 NITE 2G2B4G <3U XOXO_’ appears on the screen.

“Huh?” grunts Clint. He recognises 'xoxo’ obviously - it’s the same connection he made earlier - but the rest is pretty much texting gobbledygook. Damned kids and their cell phones nowadays! He’s as surprised as anyone when Coulson beats Daisy to the translation.

“Back at you. Great night. Too good to be forgotten. Love you. Hugs and kisses.” Suddenly the room is silent. Coulson looks round at everyone. “What? Just because I prefer to type each word in full, doesn't mean I can't read text speak. I'm _un_ dead, not dead-dead.”

Everyone snickers (except May and Romanoff but their lips twitch which is kind of the same thing for them). His lame joke manages to break some of the tension in the room. It also has Clint making a mental note to better attempt learning how to read text speak and not use Natasha as his translator quite so often. Daisy also makes a mental note. Hers is never to text her friend Jemma in the lab about how hot her boss looks in his suits again. Ever!

With an embarrassed cough, Daisy continues.

“I thought it could be some sort of code so I created an algorithm to search for the symbol and not only did it pop up for the three places in Clinton Hill it appears for hundreds more worldwide. It seems to be pretty widespread, generally in major cities. I also ran a search on the places that we found the symbol. They’re all nightclubs and bars and coffee houses… meeting places. So Mack figured must mean something else. Something more specific than just hugs and kisses. Sorry, Mack. Do you want to…?”

The werewolf smiles at his case partner. “Nah, Tremors. It's cool. You're on a roll.”

Both Clint and Coulson look at each other with raised eyebrows. 'Tremors’?

Daisy grins and leans across to fist bump him then goes on to explain about the search the pair of them did on symbols and their meanings. Her impromptu visual presentation continues showing screen grabs of the research she and Mack have carried out. It’s very thorough and both team leaders are impressed.

Clint leans over to Coulson and murmurs, “The team seems to have been working well in our absence.”

Coulson nods in agreement. “Guess we should have done this sooner.”

Clint shrugs. “We fucked up there’s no doubt. But we’ll get there. We _have_ to.”

“We will, Clint,” Coulson says softly. “We will.”


	19. Chapter 19

The gaze from Coulson's intense blue eyes and the utter conviction in his voice almost convinces Clint beyond doubt that they're going to succeed. So much so he nearly misses Daisy's next words.

“Soooo, taking the symbol and the types of places we’ve found it, we reckon we’ve figured out the second meaning for 'xoxo’.” She pauses for effect.

“Okay. I’ll bite… metaphorically obviously,” says Clint with a grin as he and Coulson turn to face the room again. “What’s the second meaning, detective?”

Daisy tries to keep her face serious but she’s losing the battle. “Sanctuary.”

“Sanctuary,” he repeats thoughtfully. “For who or what?”

Daisy and Mack look at each other and grin. Smug much?

“Interspecies relationships,” Mack announces at Daisy’s encouraging slap to his arm. She's not using her preternatural strength so he barely feels it but it seems he appreciates the gesture.

It makes a lot of sense. There are many purists in supernatural society who believe the species should be kept completely separate. Not mingling in _any_ way. Coulson’s own House proved that tonight with the unprovoked attack on Clint. For a vampire and a werewolf to have a relationship (friendly or sexual), it could easily make them the target of some kind of hate group.

Coulson gives Clint a sideways glance and finds him doing the same. It brings some things into perspective for them.

Coulson uncurls from his attentive position and nods to everyone.

“Good job. _All_ of you.” He smiles warmly around the room receiving pleased and grateful looks from the others. Melinda and Natasha maintain their blank expressions even though he includes both seconds in his praise. Tough audience but he’s used to that with Melinda.

“You’ve opened some new lines of enquiry for us and… that’s more than we’ve had in months. The next step is to determine what kind of interaction, if any, the victims had at these places. It's a big break for us and we need to make the most of it. Okay, Detective Barton will give you an update on our side of the investigation. Daisy, with me.”

With a puzzled look, Daisy stands and closes her laptop, following Coulson from the room.

Clint waits until they’ve gone then brings the team up to speed on what happened with him and Coulson focussing mainly on the crime scene and Billy’s information. He leaves out a few of the meatier (and hotter) details here and there. There’s no sense in riling everyone up with regard to his being attacked by the assholes at the Vampyre House but if this is a series of hate crimes it may be relevant to the case, so although he mentions it, he doesn’t dwell on it. There’s a flare if righteous indignation from the other weres but Natasha silences them with a hard glare.

“Coulson’s right. You did a great job tonight but we need to be sharp from here on in. We can’t lose anymore supes. I need you back here as close to sundown as you can and we’ll go over how to proceed from here. For now go home. Get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

As everyone files out, Coulson returns with Daisy. Gutierrez touches his fingers to her forearm on the way past in a sympathetic gesture and she gives him a sad, grateful smile in return.

He gives Clint a quick look asking for privacy. Clint nods picking up on the silent request. They’ve come a long way in a night.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Detective,” Clint tells her sincerely. The compassion in his voice almost breaks her composure but she’s managed to hold it together up til now. A few more minutes won’t hurt. Instead, she gives Clint a watery smile to thank him.

“Later, Coulson,” he adds and disappears after Natasha.

Coulson leads Daisy back to the desk where he set down Trip’s laptop. He rests against the edge and folds his arms across his chest, tilting his head to the side.

“I know how close you and Trip were,” he tells her gently. Daisy looks at him sadly, her eyes brimming red with unshed tears. “And… if you think this will be too painful for you, it’s fine. I’ll get the techs to do it but… I was hoping you would go through Trip’s laptop. Find out what he was working on. He uses codes a lot of the time and his files will be passworded. You know how he… was.”

Daisy digs her teeth into her bottom lip to hold back her tears at the way Coulson's voice trails off. She knows how much Trip meant to him. He'd mentored them both and she knows how much she means to him so it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.

She leans into Coulson for an awkward hug and the vampire unfolds his arms and wraps them around her. The gesture no longer awkward, they hold each other in a tight embrace finding comfort in it.

Fuck! Coulson thinks second guessing himself. He should have just asked the techs. It wasn’t fair of him to put this on her.

After a minute or so, her grip loosens and she pulls back to look at him once again. This time her mouth is set in a thin, determined line and her tears have gone.

“I'm on it, Boss. I want to get them.” Protectively, she holds the laptop against her chest. “I _need_ to get them. Thanks for asking me to do this.”

And with that, she gives him a gentle peck on the cheek and is gone.


	20. Chapter 20

The others have left for home at Clint's instruction. Coulson will stay on for a while as he often does when he needs to work on an idea. His age allows him to remain away from the safety of home closer to sunrise. Much closer than any of the rest of his team - well, the vampire side at least - and he’ll use it to his benefit.

Although they’ve positively identified a link between the slain vampires and werewolves, the placement of the 'xoxo’ marks is still gnawing at his brain. He has no doubt Daisy and Mack are right about the ‘sanctuary’ meaning they discovered but he can’t shake the feeling there’s another explanation too. And it’s all to do with ‘hugs and kisses’.

He’s deep in thought when Clint comes back with a coffee and some food he’s managed to scrounge from the break room. His return pulls Coulson from his thoughts as does the smell of the strong black coffee.

He was under the impression Clint had gone home with the others but apparently not. ‘Later, Coulson’ seems to have meant exactly that. It both annoys and pleases him. Annoys him because he likes to think things through on his own without distraction. And pleases him because Clint is a rather… appealing distraction.

Coulson turns to speak to him but stops before he forms the words. Clint is fly-catching. Honest to goodness _fly-catching_! His jaw has dropped leaving his mouth hanging open and he's staring at Coulson. Yeah, apparently _he_ seems to be the object of Clint’s interest. He can't help but smell the desire coming from the lycan. It's rolling off him in waves.

Believing he was alone, Coulson has shirked his suit jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and unbuttoned the collar pulling his tie loose. The open V at his neck reveals a tease of chest hair. The transformation from formal to relaxed seems to have done something to Clint.

Coulson smirks.

He makes use of Clint’s lack of attention by neatly swiping his partner's mug from his hand. He inhales deeply closing his eyes while making a contented moan as he takes an unexpected long, slow swallow.

Clint tries to complain - because coffee - but gets completely caught up in the movement of Coulon’s throat. That along with the sound he’s just made and the now blissful expression on his face steals anything he was about to say from his lips and makes his jeans tighten across the front. Again. He was already hard from discovering Coulson half-naked (compared to his usual formality he was half-naked). But that throaty moan has him straining against his zipper. Fuck!

“I didn’t know you drank coffee,” he says lamely trying not to fidget. Jeez, he could do with pressing his hand against his cock right about now.

Coulson juts his chin towards his desk where his grumpy cat mug is sitting. Oh! Yeah.

“For a detective… not so observant,” Coulson chides with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Drop some blood in there and you’ll be close to seeing my ‘O’ face.”

“Fuck off,” Clint retorts, carefully grabbing the mug back trying not to blush. Well, no more than he is already. “Nobody says ‘O’ face anymore.”

The last damned thing he needs to see in his mind is Coulson’s face mid-orgasm. Aw, mind no! Too late.

“Jizz face?” Coulson enquires innocently.

This time Clint chokes on his coffee nearly spraying it out of his nose. It sounds funny as fuck coming from Coulson who’s usually so polite, dressed so fine in his expensive suits.

His choke turns into a squawk when some of his drink slops out of his mug and onto the tender underside of his wrist. He can drink hot coffee straight from the pot but a little spills on his skin and apparently he's as woosie as a human.

Coulson gives him a concerned look and quickly pours some water from the nearby cooler on a pile of paper towels holding it against Clint’s wrist. The vampire’s hands feel good; cool and firm. It’s not the first occasion tonight Clint thinks ‘not the time, not the place’. But fuck!

“It’s fine, Coulson. Really, it's fine,” he protests at the vampire’s ministrations. But the protest is cursory at best. He doesn't want Coulson's touch to stop.

Coulson doesn't respond instead stares at Clint’s wrist. Clint isn’t sure what to make of the look. It’s not hungry (as in sex hungry, not Five Guys or Krispy Kreme hungry… although it’s not that either). It’s more… thoughtful. Like Coulson’s having a eureka moment. Which is… kinda weird.

“Coulson? Earth calling Coulson. Come in Coulson.”

The vampire tears his gaze away from Clint’s wrist to look him in the eyes. His own are bright with a sudden excitement, and he carefully lets go of the hand that he’s been holding to hurry over to the boards where the autopsy photos are positioned. Frantically he grabs several of them, the 'xoxo’ ones, and slams them onto the big front desk rifling through the pile.

“Fuck! I should have seen this before,” Coulson growls. The hair on the back of Clint’s neck stands on end. Whooo! He’d love to hear that tone again under the right circumstances. Y’know. When they were both naked and fucking. C’mon Clint, he tells himself. Snap out of it. You’ve managed to hold it together since the park. Don’t break now.

Coulson lays the photos out in groupings and slaps his hand down on top of them in triumph. Sadly it’s lost on Clint who stares at them then at Coulson with a confused/apologetic look. Also, way to kill the mood, Coulson.

“There! Don’t you see it? It must be the same for you. For lycanthropes.”

He’d love to say Coulson’s excitement was contagious and his words spark his own eureka moment but - nah! He’s got nothing.

Coulson shakes his head. He’s obviously going to have to show Clint what he means. Much like him, he feels it’s neither the time nor the place for this - especially not with the photos before them - but he can’t help himself. He’s been holding back all day. It’s been emotional, to say the least for so many reasons and now that they're alone, the tight control he’s been he’s been struggling with finally unravels.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've left the rating as 'Mature' but perhaps you can let me know if you think this chapter raises it to 'Explicit' (see what I did there? You're welcome and I hope you enjoy ;D)

Coulson rounds the table to be on the same side as Clint. Clint straightens from his position to face his partner and the wolf in him awakens in warning of the potential danger. But it's not violence he sees in Coulson's eyes. It's lust. His pupils are dilated and instead of being blue around the edges, they’re violet. Well, that’s… interesting.

“There are nine pulse points on the body,” Coulson tells Clint taking a step towards him moving slowly. Carefully. Like a predator. His voice is low and gravelly and he’s looking at Clint with an intensity that’s bordering on feral. It’s pushing all Clint’s buttons, sparking a fire deep in his belly.

“The radial artery, the brachial artery; the popliteal, posterior tibial, the dorsalis pedis, the femoral, the carotid, the facial and the temporal arteries.”

With every pulse point that Coulson names, he takes a step towards Clint until he’s backed him up against the wall of the briefing room. Clint’s breathing has become heavy and slow. His own pupils have blown. His heart’s hammering in his chest. He’s being stalked by a vampire and he’s almost shot his load in his pants. There’s something incredibly wrong but undeniably right about it.

“Most of these are a source of pleasure for a vampire and their donor. Or... their lover,” Coulson drops his gaze to Clint’s mouth and then his neck where the carotid is throbbing. He licks his lips and slowly returns his gaze to Clint’s eyes.

“But there are three that bring the most enjoyment to both. The radial...”

He carefully lifts Clint’s hand and holds the inside of the wrist to his mouth. With his eyes still firmly fixed on Clint’s, he presses his lips to the sensitive skin before slowly licking along the length of the artery with the tip of his tongue. Clint’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he bites his lip to stifle a groan.

Coulson smirks.

Keeping a gentle grip of Clint’s wrist, his thumb gently brushing against the inside, he leans into the crook of Clint’s neck. Clint can feel the points of Coulson's fangs grazing his skin as they descent down, signalling the vampire's obvious arousal.

“... the carotid…” Coulson breathes against Clint's burning skin. He touches his lips to the rapid pulse before once again licking a stripe along the length of the artery to just below his jaw. This time Clint can’t hold back and releases a groan, long and deep while doing a full body shiver. He’s rock hard in his jeans - something Coulson’s counting on.

While the thumb of one hand continues to lightly stroke Clint's wrist, his free hand drops to Clint’s thigh and slides a path up the inside with his fingertips to his groin. All the time he's mouthing and licking at the pulse point of Clint's neck.

“... and the femoral,” he finally growls after massaging the pressure point with his fingers.

Clint's panting heavily. Every muscle in his body is straining. He wants to throw his head back and howl. To rip his clothes from his body. From Coulson's body. To feel Coulson's skin against his. And when Coulson's hand closes over his cock, squeezing him roughly but perfectly, he grunts and jerks slamming his head back against the wall.

Clint’s heart is pounding like a jackhammer in his chest. Coulson can see and hear the blood pumping through his body. He knows it’s roaring in Clint’s ears. It would be so easy for him to sink his fangs into Clint’s skin and suck draughts of the precious fluid into his mouth. But he doesn’t. He wouldn’t take without permission. But ohhh… how he wants to.

And Clint would let him. His traitorous body would welcome the sharp pain then the steady pressure as Coulson's mouth pulled at the artery when it should be reacting violently at the mere thought of it. This is a _vampire_ with his lips pressed against his neck. His kind’s sworn enemy. He shouldn’t be moaning with pleasure at the tongue that’s licking at his skin or the mouth kissing a trail along the curve of his jaw. Nor should he be writhing beneath Coulson’s body, revelling in the way it’s pinning him to the wall. He should be fighting against this with every ounce of his strength.

But he has no desire to fight against him. His only desire is to accept what Coulson has to offer and demand more.

Or take more.

Clint breaks Coulson’s hold of him and grabs his wrists turning himself and Coulson so that Coulson's facing the wall with his palms flat to the paintwork. He lays his body along the length of the vampire’s, his hard cock pressing against the crease of Coulson’s ass.

“You want to share intimate places?” he rasps through gritted teeth into Coulon’s ear. He lets go of one wrist to pull back the collar of Coulson's shirt. “I can do that. But I won't be responsible for the consequences. You ready for that, bloodsucker?”

Coulson laughs.

“Give it your best shot, dog,” he quips back. His dick is achingly hard in his pants, another reason to be thankful for the donation well, extraction of blood from earlier it having been awhile since he last fed. There’s not much Clint can do to make things worse… or better… at this point.

“The neck…”

Clint’s voice is thick and heavy. For a moment he presses his face against Coulson’s nape inhaling his scent - that strangely familiar scent - then opens his mouth and bites down. Carefully. Not enough to break the skin. Not even enough to leave a mark, not a long-lasting one at least. Just enough for Coulson to feel the pressure of his teeth.

Coulson gasps and pushes his forehead against the wall. It seems he was wrong. Apparently, there’s a _lot_ Clint can do to make things better. And fuck! That feels good. Coulson groans but still has the presence of mind to yank off his tie, dropping it to the floor. It really wouldn’t do to be strangled at this point. Not really his kink.

Clint slides a hand around to Coulson’s chest deftly unfastening another couple of buttons then skims his fingertips through the wiry chest hair and over a massive ridge of scarring until he comes to a rest on Coulson’s pectoral. With more shirt to play with Clint pulls it back further, revealing the curve of muscle between Coulson’s neck and shoulder.

“... the shoulder…” he murmurs into the skin.

Again, he bites down with the same pressure as before pulling a grunt from Coulson as he arches into Clint’s touch. At the same time, he gives a thrust of his hips pressing his cock further into Coulson's ass. Coulson's fingers splayed wide against the wall, dig into the plaster. Fuck yes! Feels _sooo_ good. What he would give right now to be naked with Clint's cock nudging against his hole.

After a moment of gently licking around the area he’s bitten, Clint turns Coulson to face him. He’s pleased with Coulson’s dishevelled look; his hair a mess, his shirt collar wide open, hIs cock hard and tenting in his pants.

He gives Coulson a filthy grin. “Not so fucking put together now, huh?”

“You talk too much, Barton,” Coulson says with a smirk. Clint’s right though. He feels like he’s being pulled apart piece by piece. And it feels incredible. Every part of his body is screaming for more. More mouth, more teeth, more tongue… and definitely more cock. He wants everything. That fact that they’re in the SVU briefing room doesn’t even enter his head.

“Do I?” Clint asks, still grinning. “Have to change that.”

He grabs a handful of Coulson’s hair and jerks his head back exposing his throat. There’s no struggle from the vampire. He allows Clint take what he wants, and what he wants is to mouth and lick down the ridges of muscle and cartilage of Coulson’s windpipe.

“...the throat,” he growls finally and clamps his teeth over the area of the larynx. It’s almost too much for Coulson. He’s moments away coming. He hasn’t felt like this in… well, _ever_. He's _never_ felt like this. Why a werewolf of all things is making him feel this way he has no idea but he’s all for it.

In a move that's eerily reminiscent of what happened the previous night, Coulson wraps his fingers around Clint's upper arms and spins him slamming him into the wall. Admittedly he's more gentle and the plaster doesn't crack. He leans in as does Clint and their lips come together in a mash of teeth and tongues. They both fumble at the other's belts and zippers, frantically trying to get into each other's pants until... 

“Gentlemen…while I'm glad you've finally got your heads outta your asses, next time lock the fucking door.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, my lovelies. The boys (and Fury etc.) *will* be back but for now, I'm off to revisit 'The Dog Companion'. It's been a long time since I updated the story and I'm missing it.
> 
> Thank you for all your incredible support with 'The Vampire and the Werewolf'. Hope to see you again soon ~ Lola


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and, we're back! However, briefly. Got three updates for you today (hopefully) just tidying up the last one. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> ~ Lola <3

Outraged and frustrated at the unwelcome interruption, their supernatural selves merge seamlessly with their human side in response. Coulson’s fangs are bared, his violet eyes burn more fiercely than before, and Clint’s lips are pulled back in a snarl, his eyes glowing a fiery amber/gold. The air is charged with a powerful energy, crackling and sizzling around them. 

However, to their horror, the voice belongs to none other than the head of the Supernatural Victims Unit who’s leaning against the doorframe smirking at them. Completely unconcerned by their threatening, albeit defensive behaviour, Fury holds up a hand, sparks of magic dancing along the tips of his fingers. 

“Don’t even think about it,” he drawls in warning, although his tone is far too amused for him to be angry or afraid. He makes a vague gesture towards the pair of them as they return to full human form. 

“Nice look by the way. I’ll give you sixty seconds to get yourselves together then you can join me in my office for an update. And open a window. It’s stinks like a fucking knocking shop in here.”

Fury turns on his heel and slams the door behind him as he stalks towards his office not bothering to hide his mirth. His bark of laughter echoes around the near-empty bullpen, quiet before the dayshift kicks in.

For a moment, or an eternity, neither Clint nor Coulson speaks. Their gaze remains fixed on the closed door until they’re finally convinced staring at it isn’t going to erase the fact they’ve been caught getting hot and heavy in the briefing room. By their boss.

Slowly they turn their heads to face each other. They look thoroughly debauched. 

Coulson’s lips are red and kiss-swollen, the marks on his throat suggest there's going to be some mild bruising later where Clint clamped his teeth over his larynx. His dress shirt with most of the buttons undone, is half out of his pants which are wide open displaying his black underwear that’s been hurriedly pushed down to show off unexpected yet incredibly sexy hip dents (and for easy access to other parts of his anatomy - too bad they had been disturbed before that actually happened).

To be fair, Clint is pretty much in the same dishevelled state. His hair has that tousled just out of bed look, his lips are the mirror image of Coulson’s and his pants are riding low on his hips with one of Coulson’s hands shoved inside his underwear, still gripping the ass cheek he managed to get hold of prior to Fury announcing his presence. Classy! 

With a groan, Coulson leans his forehead against Clint’s. “Well, that was…”

“Awkward? Embarrassing? Uncomfortable?” Clint finishes for him, his thumb brushing over the jut of Coulson’s hip bone wringing a soft moan from him. Not giving a shit about Fury’s sixty-second deadline, Clint leans in for a kiss, slow and deep, very different to the frantic tongues and teeth before Fury’s arrival. 

Apparently not too concerned about it either, Coulson makes no attempt to protest or pull away. Instead, he increases the pressure of his lips against Clint’s, opening his mouth slightly, flicking his tongue inside. Clint gasps as Coulson’s thumb strokes the soft skin of his ass while he squeezes the firm cheek in his hand. Fuck, it feels so good. All of it feels so good.

When they finally break apart Coulson sounds resigned to his fate when he tells Clint “Honestly? All of the above” in response to his assessment of their predicament. He knows Fury is going to take great pleasure in giving him a hard time over this. He's an asshole like that.

“Also, pretty fuckin’ hot,” Clint suggests, shifting his head to suck Coulson’s earlobe into his mouth before tugging it with his teeth. 

Coulson smiles. It had been in a weird way. It’s not the first time he’s thought about fucking Clint in front of everyone. He didn’t realise he had such a wanton streak of exhibitionism running through him. 

Coulson lets Clint play for another moment enjoying the pull of his teeth against his skin before carefully drawing back to look at him again. He raises his eyebrow at the shameless grin that’s broken out across Clint’s face and his own lips curl up into a smirk.

“Not regretting it then?” he asks, his voice rough and edged with arousal. Realising he’s still palming Clint’s buttock, he gives it another firm squeeze. Clint grunts in appreciation.

“Nah,” he grins shaking his head. “Pissed we got interrupted but no. No regrets.”

“Good. Then perhaps we can revisit it at a more… appropriate time?”

Clint snorts out a laugh. “Only you could be so polite about asking if I wanna fuck?”

Coulson gives him a considering look then leans forward into his space and presses his mouth against Clint’s ear. “Do you want to fuck, dog?” he purrs in a seductive whisper.

Coulson’s warm breath ghosting over his skin and the filthy way he says the words spike Clint’s own arousal and cause him to shudder. His erection which had begun to flag after Fury’s departure has been slowly making its interest known during their kiss and now his cock is once again throbbing in his briefs.

“Yes,” he moans. The fingers of his left hand grip tight to Coulson’s hip, and he lifts his right palm to press against Coulson’s House sigil. “An’ I wanna to get my mouth on this an’ suck on it till you come, bloodsucker.”

Coulson swallows thickly, his own cock hardening again with the thought of Clint’s lips and tongue sucking and licking at the winged-serpent ouroboros. The mark of the Vampyre being marked in turn by the mouth of a Lycan. There’s every chance it  _ would _ make him come. There’s every chance just  _ imagining _ it will make him come so he tries his best not to.

“I’ll keep that in mind but for now… I think maybe we should pull it together and give Fury what he wants.” Reluctantly he lets go of Clint’s ass raking his nails over the velvety skin as he removes his hand from his underwear making Clint shudder with pleasure, and takes a couple of steps back to rearrange his own clothing.

Reaching in to reposition his dick to make it more comfortable, and his hard-on less obvious, Clint pulls his jeans closed and mutters, “Pity. I’d rather be giving you what  _ you _ want.”

“I’d rather you were doing that too,” Coulson tells him with a wicked smile, tucking his shirt in and closing his pants after doing a little repositioning of his own. “But trust me… you’ll get another chance.”

Head ducked, Clint bites his bottom lip and looks up at him through his lashes. “And what about me? You gonna give me what I want?”

Coulson pauses in the fastening of his dress shirt buttons. He pins Clint with his gaze and licks his lips. “As much as you can take,” he promises darkly.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: There's more of a description with regard to the torture that's inflicted by the unsub and whether or not it may be sexual in nature. I haven't upped the rating to explicit as it's suggestive rather than detailed but if you think it should be changed, please let me know and I'll do so.

“You’re nine and a half minutes late,” Fury grouses when Clint and Coulson enter his office. “And that better have been a celebration over solving this fucking case I interrupted.”

“A breakthrough at least,” Coulson tells him, refusing to blush as he sits. “And it’s seven and a half. You always exaggerate.”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Fury steeples his fingers and waits. 

Coulson ignores Fury’s attempt at baiting him. Instead, he keeps his expression carefully blank when he begins his debriefing on the night’s events. At an appropriate point, he nods to Clint for him to take over and pauses to scrub a hand that suddenly feels tired and heavy over his face. 

Clint continues to update Fury until he gets to the point where things took a somewhat pornographic turn in the briefing room. He's really not sure what say about that. He's not even sure how it all started. He just remembers spilling coffee on his wrist, Coulson apparently having a Eureka moment, and then finally giving in to the urge to fuck the vampire who's been making his emotions go haywire all day. It's really  _ his _ tale to tell. He looks to Coulson who seems unusually distracted and gives him a nudge with his foot. 

With a start, Coulson returns from wherever he was in his head and takes over again. This time he can’t prevent the flush spreading across his cheeks or the tips of his ears glowing red which Clint finds fascinating.

“So, just before you walked in I uh… was testing a hypothesis.”

“Huh! So that’s what we’re calling it now,” Fury retorts.

“Are you going to be a dick over this all night? You wanna hear this or not… sir?” Coulson snaps back in irritation. Clint gives him a surprised look while Fury raises an eyebrow and drops back in his seat. Someone’s tetchy.

“Well then, I guess I’m all ears, Detective. Please. Carry on.”

Annoyed at himself for letting his exasperation show, Coulson nods sharply and continues more calmly. 

“I believe Daisy and Mack are right about their sanctuary theory. Pretty sure our unsub is aware of it too. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s his motivation. But I still think there’s something more. Barton pointed out at the crime scene XOXO means ‘hugs and kisses’ in text speak. Something I hadn’t considered before.” 

He shoots Clint a glance and the werewolf leans forward in his seat. This was the bit he didn’t get when Coulson tried to show him with the photos before… well, before the night took that happy but unexpected turn.

“It was backed up by Daisy at our debrief earlier. So, it got me thinking. I believe the killer knows it as well.”

Disappointed if this is the extent of Coulson’s “breakthrough”, Fury asks, “That’s not such a stretch of the imagination, is it? Even _ I  _ know that and I fucking  _ hate _ texting.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of that,” Coulson deadpans, suppressing a shiver at his friend’s awful attempts at sending messages via his cell phone. They're usually one long misspelt sentence with no punctuation.

“But… I think our unsub is taunting us with it. He’s using the symbols during the torturing of his victims. Before things got a little… out of hand… and no smart comments, thank you,” Coulson says, cutting Fury off before he can start. “Barton spilt coffee on the inside of his wrist. That’s when it hit me. Apart from the House sigils, look at where the worst of the silver burns are positioned,” he tells them, handing Fury a couple of ME photos and giving Clint the remainder. 

The pair drop their gaze to study the photos and suddenly the penny drops for Clint. 

“They’re all erogenous zones for a vampire or a lycan.” 

Coulson nods giving him a grim look. “The throat, the wrist, and the thigh for us; the throat, the nape, and the shoulder for lycans.”

“Well, motherfucker!” Fury breathes. “So, what have we got? Should we be looking at this as a sex crime now rather than a hate crime?”

“No, I think it's still mostly a hate crime,” Clint says with a thoughtful frown at the photos in his hands. “The torture’s not hurried. It's slow and methodical. The genital area is still intact. There’s no mutilation; no cutting or stabbing and there’re no silver burns. I agree there’s definitely a sexual element to it but I reckon Coulson's onto somethin’ when he says the unsub is tauntin’ us.” 

It’s obvious to Clint now that he sees it. And no wonder Coulson was so pissed with himself when he finally made the connection. They should have seen it before. He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck while he joins some dots himself.

“Coulson’s right.The killer, or killers, knows all about the sanctuary theory. They’re choosin’ their victims from places that encourage, or at least support, interspecies relationships. An’ they fuckin’ hate it. An’ it looks like they’ve got a special hard-on for lycans an’ vampires. They’ve not taken any other species… not as yet anyway. 

When this first started a coupla months ago, I was as sure as anyone that it was vampire killin’ lycan an’ vice versa. But after today at the crime scene an’ following up with Coulson, somethin’ just isn't sitting right with me.”

“Why?” asks Fury, genuinely curious. “What changed?”

It's rare to see a 180 o turnaround in opinion in so short a space of time, less than twelve hours. Shit! Is that really all? As far as he could tell, Barton and Coulson have been looking to tear each other apart all week, especially Barton with is hot-headedness. But today? Today they were looking to tear into each other in a very different way. So  _ hell _ yeah, he’s curious. 

Not wanting to go into his sex dream the day before, or dwell on the attraction for Coulson he’s been experiencing since then, Clint just shrugs. “I’m not sure I can explain it so that it makes sense. Before today, to me and pretty much most of my kind, the only good bloodsucker was a dead one. Every vampire’s a bloodthirsty killing machine.”

“But not every bloodthirsty killing machine’s a vampire,” quips Coulson, the corner of his mouth turning up in a small smile. He remembers being told, and telling, a similar thing about werewolves.

Clint grins at him. “Yeah, somethin’ like that. For centuries, we’ve hated each other. Workin’ in isolation. Workin’ against each other. Vampires investigating vampire crimes, lycans investigating our own kind. Blamin’ the other when we could and startin’ wars over it. We’ve either learned or been taught to hate each other. But today, for the most part at least, I saw somethin’ different an’ it’s making me rethink things.

I maybe suggested there was a possibility it could be a vampire/lycan team but now I think this asswipe’s been plantin’ evidence framin’ us for each other’s killings. Hopin’ that we’d be at each other’s throats.  _ Literally _ at each other’s throats. An’ we were. Until today. What they didn’t count on was us finally workin’ together to solve this. Might’ve taken us a while to wise the fuck up, but you were right about...”

Without warning, Coulson gets up from his seat pushing it over in his haste with a loud clatter which startles the other two supes. After swaying on his feet for a moment, he makes for the door without a word or an explanation.


	24. Chapter 24

Realising what’s happening, Fury curses a blue streak as he leaps up to follow the vampire at a run. Even though he has no idea what’s going on, Clint doesn’t hesitate and goes after the pair.

“Sonofabitch! Sun’s coming up,” Fury calls over his shoulder. “With me, Barton but stay back unless I tell you otherwise. And whatever the fuck else you do, _don’t_ get in his way.”

Coulson’s moving in a blur towards the stairwell as Fury knew he would. Even though he’s running short on time, he wouldn’t risk using an elevator for fear of becoming trapped in it. Besides, with his preternatural speed, it’s quicker for him just to use his legs anyway.

“Where’re we going and what the fuck’s happening?” Clint demands almost jogging to keep up with Fury’s long strides which quickly take them down to the sub-basement.

“The Vault,” he answers, not slowing his pace.

“The _what_?”

“I’ll explain once Coulson’s settled. For now, zip it!”

Within a few minutes they’re heading towards an area near the labs Clint doesn’t recognise. Coulson stops in front of a windowless metal door and raises his hand to a keypad at the side then pauses to scent the air. His head turns slowly towards Clint and Fury who comes to an immediate halt grabbing Clint to do the same. Coulson’s narrowed eyes meet Fury’s briefly and he immediately lets go of Barton.

Clint doesn’t even see him move but suddenly Coulson’s standing in front of him pushing him against the corridor wall, pressing his face into the crook of Clint’s neck, hands skimming along his sides. Clint closes his eyes unable and unwilling to stop the shiver that runs through him as Coulson inhales his scent in a way that’s primal and arousing and he hopes will never stop.

Fury stays out of the way saying nothing but keeping careful, if somewhat uncomfortable, watch of what’s going on. He’s pulling magic from his core into his hands in case he needs it to prevent Coulson from harming Barton but in all honesty, it looks more of a continuation of what he interrupted earlier than a confrontation between vampire and lycan. And this time he has _no_ intention of cutting in. Coulson is acting on instinct now and will have no compunction about killing to protect what he considers his own.

“Come to tuck me in, dog? Or come to join me?” Coulson growls into Clint’s neck. A low moan escapes Clint’s lips and he arches into Coulson’s touch, his hands gripping Coulson’s forearms sliding up to his shoulders. Once again he feels desire coil low in his belly, his cock hardening in an instant. He’s lost count of the number of times it’s happened tonight.

“Dunno, bloodsucker, but keep that up an’ I might just come for you. Which would you rather I did?”

“Coming for me sounds good. But... I need to sleep now.”

He draws back and drops his hands away from Clint to look deep in his eyes. The lack of touch is to reassure Clint he’s not putting a glamour on him. Reluctantly, Clint lets go too and listens to what Coulson has to say.

“I have your scent. You’ll be safe to sleep with me another time but for now, go home to your Pack and rest well. I’ll see you in the evening.”

After a moment, Clint nods his agreement. Coulson smiles at him then turns to Fury. “Give him access to your files on me.”

“You’re sure?” the Mage counters. There’s a lot of unsavoury reading in those files.

“I am.”

He starts to turn away but pauses to glance back at Fury. “I appreciate you escorting me here in safety. I wouldn’t want to harm him. Or anyone else. But we both know I’m not in full control right now. Thank you, Marcus. Goodnight, my friend.”

His eyes fall upon the werewolf again. “Clint,” he says softly.

And with that Coulson is back at the metal door, punching in a code and entering the room closing the door behind without further delay.

“The fuck was that all about?” Clint asks, his voice hoarse and shaky. He lets out a long slow breath trying to get his body under control again. Fuck! Being around a vampire - _that_ vampire - is some pretty intense shit!

Fury gives him a slow perusal somehow managing to avoid the unmissable outline of Barton’s hard cock in his jeans. “I could ask the same thing.”

“Yeah well, even if I had an answer, I’m not sure I’d tell ya.”

Fury barks out a laugh as he turns and heads for the stairwell again at a more sedate pace with Clint walking beside him. “Then I guess we better concentrate on your question for now. What do you know about vampire sleep patterns?”

Clint snorts. “They sleep like the dead? Undead?”

Fury sighs “Yeah, we really need to get you caught up.”

Clint is more intelligent than he pretends sometimes. He wouldn’t be where he is if that wasn’t the case. Nonetheless, he feels the need to offset his flippant answer to Fury with his knowledge of vampires, gleaned from Pack accounts over the centuries.

“Okay, to clarify, most vampires sleep in a comatose state - an’ so the phrase “sleep of the dead”. They won’t stir an’ can’t move from the time the sun begins to rise until well into sundown the following night making them easy prey for hunters. Others, usually older vampires, will have the need to sleep but they’re fully aware of what’s going on around them. They can protect themselves even when dormant. Obviously, that makes them hard to kill.

Finally, there’s a group that doesn’t sleep at all. Either the oldest of their kind or fledgelings that had difficulty with the Turn. If they're fledgelings, they don’t usually last long, driven insane by the lack of sleep. If they’re old, it’s goin’ to take some pretty heavy artillery to take them out but they still need to recharge eventually.

All of them - light, heavy or non-sleepers - need a place where they’ll feel safe and know they'll be left undisturbed for the duration of their rest. And so, I would guess The Vault.”

Fury gives him an appraising look. “Not so ignorant about vampires after all, Barton.”

Clint shrugs. Damn straight he’s not. “No, sir.”

Fury falls silent as he leads Clint back to his office. It’s not uncomfortable as such, they’ve known each other for some twenty plus years during his time with the SVU: Lycan Division, which admittedly, is a drop in the ocean compared to the decades, maybe even centuries Fury and Coulson have as friends. However, he’s obviously mulling something over and Clint leaves him to it, thinking about a few things himself. Namely the shit that went down in the corridor with Coulson.

When they enter his office, Fury points at the recently vacated seats and makes them both a coffee from his personal stash as Clint uprights one visitor's chair and drops onto the other. He accepts a mug from Fury and hums with pleasure as he swallows a mouthful, his first since his abandoned cup from earlier.

“This _thing_ between you and him, I don’t know how it came about but for what it’s worth, Coulson’s placing a lot of trust in you.”

Clint’s already aware of that for a number of reasons but he’s interested to find out Fury’s take so he says nothing, waiting instead for the Mage to expand on his point.

“Incidentally, I know you’re putting a lot of trust in him too. Especially with your history with vampires.”

Clint gives him a pissy look. As far as he was aware, his history with bloodsuckers is not common knowledge outside his Pack. Particularly his early history. Fury rolls his eye and chuckles.

“Please!” he snorts. “You think I don’t do full background checks on _all_ my detectives.”

“Does that mean you gotta a file on me too?” Clint asks, trying to keep the interest out of his voice. He had wondered earlier.

“I do. But it’s not as big as Coulson’s.”

Clint smirks at him. “C’mon now, sir. It’s not the size that counts.”

Fury doesn’t bother to acknowledge Clint’s smutty innuendo let alone give it a response, not even an eye roll. Clint feels aggrieved somehow. It was a good smutty innuendo.

“So, The Vault,” he prompts, hiding his smirk behind another sip from his mug.

This time Fury nods. He taps the edge of his mug slowly with the fingertip of his forefinger then speaks.

“One thing you missed. Come sunrise, vampires are driven by instinct. They’ll stop at nothing to get somewhere safe to sleep. And I _mean_ nothing. Hence the need to follow Coulson. He would never forgive himself if he caused someone’s death or injury en route. Generally the older the vampire the longer they can last. He made it until nine minutes to sunrise. He should have taken sanctuary long before then but I guess time got away from him tonight.”

He gave Clint a pointed look making him duck his head and blush a pretty shade of scarlet.

“Yeah, not just your fault,” he sighed, tapping his mug again before lifting it to his mouth and taking another pull of coffee. “I should have caught it earlier, and he shouldn’t have been an asshole and held out so long.

Anyway, long story short, we have a place called ‘The Vault’ for species who can’t make it home or to a safe house before daybreak. You didn’t know about it before because you didn’t need to. In fact, it was considered dangerous for you to know. But, given recent… _developments_ between you and Coulson, he’s obviously decided that no longer applies. For your information, however, if you should ever feel compelled to use that knowledge for harmful purposes, I’ll end you myself. I trust we’re clear on that?”

With a very audible gulp, Clint swallows the coffee he’d just drunk barely managing not to choke. Fury’s tone never changed while he threatened Clint and that’s just fucking scary. He would never have messed the Mage before but now he’d be foolish to even entertain it as a thought.

He peers at him over the rim of his mug and says, “Like a pane of glass. Sir.”

Fury harrumphs.

“Coulson authorised me to allow you to read his file. I suggest you do that. I also suggest you don’t take any of this lightly. Coulson doesn’t have trust issues like I do, but he generally doesn’t act on impulse. For some reason, he’s decided to place his faith in you. And going by what I walked in on in the briefing room and what happened in the corridor, something more besides. I suggest you don’t take _that_ lightly either.”

Not sure how he feels about any of that or having it pointed out to him in such blunt terms, Clint finally nods wondering if this is some kind of shovel talk.

“Anything you want to add or ask?”

Yeah, what does “something more besides” mean? And what was the whole scenting thing in the corridor? But perhaps these are things he should really ask Coulson. Choosing to take Fury’s words as a dismissal, Clint stands from his seat and places the empty mug on Fury’s desk.

“No, sir. Thanks for the coffee. And the pep talk.”

“That mug’s not gonna wash itself, Barton and I don’t do that Sorcerer’s Apprentice shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to get back again soon with more of the investigation. Hope you enjoyed the updates and if you want to leave comments to let me know how you think things are going, please feel free. Thanks for reading as always.


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